R. F. Murray [24]
rise, With the same hope in their eyes That in yours is kindled now, And the same light on their brow.
They shall see the selfsame sun That your eyes now gaze upon, They shall breathe the same sweet air, And shall reck not who ye were.
Yet they too shall fade at last In the twilight of the past, They and you alike shall be Lost from the world's memory.
Then, while yet ye breathe and live, Drink the cup that life can give. Be ye happy, if ye may, In the years that pass away,
Ere the golden bowl be broken, Ere ye pass and leave no token, Ere the silver cord be loosed, Ere ye turn again to dust.
`And shall this be all,' ye cry, `But to eat and drink and die? If no more than this there be, Vanity of vanity!'
Yea, all things are vanity, And what else but vain are ye? Ye who boast yourselves the kings Over all created things.
Kings! whence came your right to reign? Ye shall be dethroned again. Yet for this, your one brief hour, Wield your mockery of power.
Dupes of Fate, that treads you down Wear awhile your tinsel crown Be ye happy, if ye may, In the years that pass away.
LOVE'S WORSHIP RESTORED
O Love, thine empire is not dead, Nor will we let thy worship go, Although thine early flush be fled, Thine ardent eyes more faintly glow, And thy light wings be fallen slow Since when as novices we came Into the temple of thy name.
Not now with garlands in our hair, And singing lips, we come to thee. There is a coldness in the air, A dulness on the encircling sea, Which doth not well with songs agree. And we forget the words we sang When first to thee our voices rang.
When we recall that magic prime, We needs must weep its early death. How pleasant from thy towers the chime Of bells, and sweet the incense breath That rose while we, who kept thy faith, Chanting our creed, and chanting bore Our offerings to thine altar store!
Now are our voices out of tune, Our gifts unworthy of thy name. December frowns, in place of June. Who smiled when to thy house we came, We who came leaping, now are lame. Dull ears and failing eyes are ours, And who shall lead us to thy towers?
O hark! A sound across the air, Which tells not of December's cold, A sound most musical and rare. Thy bells are ringing as of old, With silver throats and tongues of gold. Alas! it is too sweet for truth, An empty echo of our youth.
Nay, never echo spake so loud! It is indeed thy bells that ring. And lo, against the leaden cloud, Thy towers! Once more we leap and spring, Once more melodiously we sing, We sing, and in our song forget That winter lies around us yet.
Oh, what is winter, now we know, Full surely, thou canst never fail? Forgive our weak untrustful woe, Which deemed thy glowing face grown pale. We know thee, mighty to prevail. Doubt and decrepitude depart, And youth comes back into the heart.
O Love, who turnest frost to flame With ardent and immortal eyes, Whose spirit sorrow cannot tame, Nor time subdue in any wise - While sun and moon for us shall rise, Oh, may we in thy service keep Till in thy faith we fall asleep!
BELOW HER WINDOW
Where she sleeps, no moonlight shines No pale beam unbidden creeps. Darkest shade the place enshrines Where she sleeps.
Like a diamond in the deeps Of the rich unopened mines There her lovely rest she keeps.
Though the jealous dark confines All her beauty, Love's heart leaps. His unerring thought divines Where she sleeps.
REQUIEM
For thee the birds shall never sing again, Nor fresh green leaves come out upon the tree, The brook shall no more murmur the refrain For thee.
Thou liest underneath the windswept lea, Thou dreamest not of pleasure or of pain, Thou dreadest no to-morrow that shall be.
Deep rest is thine, unbroken by the rain, Ay, or the thunder. Brother, canst thou see The tears that night and morning fall in vain For thee?
THOU ART QUEEN
Thou art queen to every eye, When the fairest maids convene. Envy's self can not deny Thou art queen.
In thy step thy right is seen, In thy beauty pure and high, In thy
They shall see the selfsame sun That your eyes now gaze upon, They shall breathe the same sweet air, And shall reck not who ye were.
Yet they too shall fade at last In the twilight of the past, They and you alike shall be Lost from the world's memory.
Then, while yet ye breathe and live, Drink the cup that life can give. Be ye happy, if ye may, In the years that pass away,
Ere the golden bowl be broken, Ere ye pass and leave no token, Ere the silver cord be loosed, Ere ye turn again to dust.
`And shall this be all,' ye cry, `But to eat and drink and die? If no more than this there be, Vanity of vanity!'
Yea, all things are vanity, And what else but vain are ye? Ye who boast yourselves the kings Over all created things.
Kings! whence came your right to reign? Ye shall be dethroned again. Yet for this, your one brief hour, Wield your mockery of power.
Dupes of Fate, that treads you down Wear awhile your tinsel crown Be ye happy, if ye may, In the years that pass away.
LOVE'S WORSHIP RESTORED
O Love, thine empire is not dead, Nor will we let thy worship go, Although thine early flush be fled, Thine ardent eyes more faintly glow, And thy light wings be fallen slow Since when as novices we came Into the temple of thy name.
Not now with garlands in our hair, And singing lips, we come to thee. There is a coldness in the air, A dulness on the encircling sea, Which doth not well with songs agree. And we forget the words we sang When first to thee our voices rang.
When we recall that magic prime, We needs must weep its early death. How pleasant from thy towers the chime Of bells, and sweet the incense breath That rose while we, who kept thy faith, Chanting our creed, and chanting bore Our offerings to thine altar store!
Now are our voices out of tune, Our gifts unworthy of thy name. December frowns, in place of June. Who smiled when to thy house we came, We who came leaping, now are lame. Dull ears and failing eyes are ours, And who shall lead us to thy towers?
O hark! A sound across the air, Which tells not of December's cold, A sound most musical and rare. Thy bells are ringing as of old, With silver throats and tongues of gold. Alas! it is too sweet for truth, An empty echo of our youth.
Nay, never echo spake so loud! It is indeed thy bells that ring. And lo, against the leaden cloud, Thy towers! Once more we leap and spring, Once more melodiously we sing, We sing, and in our song forget That winter lies around us yet.
Oh, what is winter, now we know, Full surely, thou canst never fail? Forgive our weak untrustful woe, Which deemed thy glowing face grown pale. We know thee, mighty to prevail. Doubt and decrepitude depart, And youth comes back into the heart.
O Love, who turnest frost to flame With ardent and immortal eyes, Whose spirit sorrow cannot tame, Nor time subdue in any wise - While sun and moon for us shall rise, Oh, may we in thy service keep Till in thy faith we fall asleep!
BELOW HER WINDOW
Where she sleeps, no moonlight shines No pale beam unbidden creeps. Darkest shade the place enshrines Where she sleeps.
Like a diamond in the deeps Of the rich unopened mines There her lovely rest she keeps.
Though the jealous dark confines All her beauty, Love's heart leaps. His unerring thought divines Where she sleeps.
REQUIEM
For thee the birds shall never sing again, Nor fresh green leaves come out upon the tree, The brook shall no more murmur the refrain For thee.
Thou liest underneath the windswept lea, Thou dreamest not of pleasure or of pain, Thou dreadest no to-morrow that shall be.
Deep rest is thine, unbroken by the rain, Ay, or the thunder. Brother, canst thou see The tears that night and morning fall in vain For thee?
THOU ART QUEEN
Thou art queen to every eye, When the fairest maids convene. Envy's self can not deny Thou art queen.
In thy step thy right is seen, In thy beauty pure and high, In thy