Who feels that God and Heaven's great deeps are nearer Him to whose heart his fellow-man is nigh, Who doth not hold his soul's own freedom dearer Who to the right can feel himself the truer For being gently patient with the wrong, And finds in Love the heart's-blood of his song; His verse shall have a great, commanding motion, Learnt of the sky, the river, and the ocean, And all the pure, majestic things that be. To make us feel the soul once more sublime, We are of far too infinite an essence To rest contented with the lies of Time. Speak out! and, lo! a hush of deepest wonder As when a sudden burst of rattling thunder 1841. THE MOON. My soul was like the sea, Before the moon was made, Moaning in vague immensity, Of its own strength afraid, Unrestful and unstaid. Through every rift it foamed in vain, About its earthly prison, Seeking some unknown thing in pain, And sinking restless back again, For yet no moon had risen: Its only voice a vast, dumb moan, Of utterless anguish speaking, It lay unhopefully alone, And lived but in an aimless seeking. So was my soul: but, when 't was full Of unrest to o'erloading, A voice of something beautiful As if by an unconscious will, For the moon's silver feet, So lay my soul within mine eyes When thou, its guardian moon, didst rise. And now, howe'er its waves above May toss and seem uneaseful, One strong, eternal law of Love, With guidance sure and peaceful, As calm and natural as breath, Moves its great deeps through life and death. A GLANCE BEHIND THE CURTAIN. WE see but half the causes of our deeds, The momentary work of unseen hands, Which crumbles down behind us; looking back, And, marvelling how we won to where we stand, Not to the birth-throes of a mighty Truth |