. The monitions of the unseen, and poems of love and childhood. amazed she started up awake. And lo, her little child was gone indeed ! The sleep that knows no waking he had to heavens own heart; in rainbow brede Clothed and made glad, while they two mourned in the drinking of their bitter cupThe sweet voice spoke once more, and sighed, Look up ! * They heard, and straightway answered, Even so:For what abides that we should look on here ? The heavens are better than this earth are of more account and far more dear. We will look up, for all most sweet and fai
. The monitions of the unseen, and poems of love and childhood. amazed she started up awake. And lo, her little child was gone indeed ! The sleep that knows no waking he had to heavens own heart; in rainbow brede Clothed and made glad, while they two mourned in the drinking of their bitter cupThe sweet voice spoke once more, and sighed, Look up ! * They heard, and straightway answered, Even so:For what abides that we should look on here ? The heavens are better than this earth are of more account and far more dear. We will look up, for all most sweet and fair, Most pure, most excellent, is garnered there. 76 A REVERIE. ^T 7HEN I do sit apart And commune with my heart, She biings me forth the treasures once my own;Shows me a happy placeWhere leaf-buds swelled apace. And wasting rims of snow in sunlight -shone. Rock, in a mossy glade. The larch-trees lend thee shade. That just begin to feather with their leaves ;From out thy crevice deepWhite tufts of snowdrops peep. And melted rime drips softly from thine Once to that cottage door,In happy days of yore,My little love made footprints in the was so glad of spring,She helped birds to sing. A REVERIE. 77 *Ah, rock, I know, I know That yet thy snowdrops grow,And yet doth sunshine fleck them through the tree, Whose sheltering branches hide The cottage at its nevermore will shade or shelter me. I know the stockdoves note Athwart the glen doth float:With sweet foreknowledge of her twins oppressed, And longings onward sent. She broods before the leisurely she mends her shallow nest. Once to that cottage door, In happy days of yore,My little love made footprints in the snow. She was so glad of spring, She helped the birds to sing,I know she dwells there yet — the rest I do not know. 78 A REVERIE, They sang, and would not stop,While dro}^, and drop, and drop, I heard the melted rime in sunshine fall;And narrow wandering leaned the daffodils
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