Excerpt
YULE TIDE. 'They bring me sorrow touched with joy,The merry merry bells of Yule.'
Tennyson, In Memoriam.
The Royal Birthday dawns again,A stricken world to bless;And sufferers forget their pain,And mourners their distress. Love sings to-day; her eyes so fairWith happy tears are wet;She is too humble to despair,Too faithful to forget. Her voice is very soft and sweet,Her heart is brave and strong;Her vassal, I would fain repeatSome fragments of her song. A Birthday-song my heart would singIts rapture to express;My Father's son must be a king,And share His consciousness. Of God's Self-knowledge comes the WordThat utters all His Thought;That Word made Flesh by all is heardWho seek as they are sought. His seeking and His finding makeOur search an easy thing;He sows good seed, and bids us takeThe joys of harvesting. Yet must His children do their part,And what He gives accept;No heart can understand His HeartThat has not bled and wept. All seasons, bring they bale or bliss,His priceless treasures hold;The Winter's silver all is His,And His the Summer's gold. Life's harvest is not reaped untilThe Christ within has grownTo perfect manhood, and self-willBy love is overthrown. Such manhood gained concludes the strifeThat makes the babe a boy;'T is thus the seed becomes a life,The life becomes a joy. The eyes that weep are eyes that see,And swift are pilgrim-feet;Ah! hope at length may come to beThan memory more sweet. So keeping festival to-day,With children's laughter near,It is not hard to sing and pray,'T is hard to doubt or fear. Father, my heart to Thee I bring,To Thee my song address;From Winter pain and toil of SpringGrows Summer happiness.THE MADONNA DI SAN SISTO.
'The Lord Himself shall give you a sign; behold, a Virgin shall conceive and bear a Son.'
Behold, by Raphael shown, Love's sacrament!Earth's curtains part, God's veil is lifted up;There comes a Child, forth from His Bosom sentTo rule the feast of life, His Bread and Cup,His purpose making plain with man to sup.Out-streams the light, accomplished is the Sign,A Virgin-Mother clasps a Babe Divine. Her lovely feet descend the cloudy stair,Great succour bringing to a world forlorn;On either side a man and woman shareA common rapture, welcoming the dawnOf God's new day, the everlasting morn—Of such a day as shall from East to WestDispel the darkness, doing Love's behest. He turns a face all radiant to the Sun,Enamoured of the sight he looks upon;She to the end of what is now begunDowngazes, stooping, shadowed by the throneMade by a Maiden's arms, maternal grown;Than ivory most fair, than purest gold,More pure, more fair, and stronger to uphold. On cherubs twain, whom watching has made wise,A spell has fallen—a prophetic dream;Their upward-gazing and far-seeing eyes,Like stars reflected in a tranquil stream,To look beyond the Child and Mother seem;A twisted thorn-branch and a cross to themAre manifest—His throne and diadem....