When fulfilled the trust,
And the mourners weep;
When, tho' free from rust,
Sword hath lost its worth—
Let me bring to earth
No dishonored dust.
TO A DEPARTED FRIEND
Dear friend, who lovedst well this pleasant life!
One year ago it is this very day
Since thou didst take thy uncompanioned way
Into the silent land, from out the strife
And joyful tumult of the world. The knife
Wherewith that sorrow cut us still doth stay,
And we, to whom thou daily didst betray
Thy gentle soul, with faith and worship rife,
Love thee not less but more—as time doth go
And we too hasten toward that land unknown
Where those most dear are gathering one by one.
The power divine that here did touch thy heart—
Hath this withdrawn from thee, where now thou art?
Would thou indeed couldst tell what thou dost know!}}
"THE EVENING STAR"
The evening star trembles and hides from him
Who fain would hold it with imperious stare;
Yet, to the averted eye, lo! unaware
It shines serene, no longer shy and dim.
O, slow and sweet, its chalice to the brim
Fills the leaf-shadowed grape with rich and rare
Cool sunshine, caught from the white circling air!
Home from his journey to the round world's rim,—
