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EDWIN ARNOLD.

"HE AND SHE.”

EDWIN ARNOLD.

"SHE is dead!" they said to him. "Come away;

Kiss her and leave her, thy love is clay!"

They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair;

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He and she; still she did not move
To any one passionate whisper of love.

Then he said: "Cold lips and breasts
without breath,

Is there no voice, no language of death?

"Dumb to the ear and still to the sense, But to heart and to soul distinct, intense? 'See now; I will listen with soul, not ear;

On her forehead of stone they laid it fair; What was the secret of dying, dear?

Over her eyes that gazed too much
They drew the lids with a gentle touch;

With a tender touch they closed up well
The sweet thin lips that had secrets to
tell;

About her brows and beautiful face
They tied her veil and her marriage lace,

And drew on her white feet her white
silk shoes-

"Was it the infinite wonder of all

That you ever could let life's flower fall?

“Or was it a greater marvel to feel The perfect calm o'er the agony steal?

"Was the miracle greater to find how deep Beyond all dreams sank downward that sleep?

"Did life roll back its records, dear, Which were the whitest no eye could And show, as they say it does, past

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With a shudder, to glance at its stillness and gloom.

But he who loved her too well to dread

things clear?

"And was it the innermost heart of the bliss

To find out so, what a wisdom love is?

"O perfect dead! O dead most dear,
I hold the breath of my soul to hear!

"I listen as deep as to horrible hell,
As high as to heaven, and you do not tell.

"There must be pleasure in dying, sweet, To make you so placid from head to feet!

"I would tell you, darling, if I were dead, And 't were your hot tears upon my brow shed;

The sweet, the stately, the beautiful I would say, though the Angel of Death

dead,

He lit his lamp and took the key
And turned it, -alone again—he and she.

He and she; but she would not speak,
Though he kissed, in the old place, the
quiet cheek.

He and she; yet she would not smile, Though he called her the name she loved erewhile.

had laid

His sword on my lips to keep it unsaid.

"You should not ask vainly, with stream-
ing eyes,
Which of all deaths was the chiefest sur-
prise,

"The very strangest and suddenest thing
Of all the surprises that dying must
bring.

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"The utmost wonder is this, I hear

That treasure of his treasury,
A mind that loved him; let it lie!
Let the shard be earth's once more,
Since the gold shines in his store!

Allah glorious! Allah good!
Now thy world is understood;
Now the long, long wonder ends;
Yet ye weep, my erring friends,

And see you, and love you, and kiss While the man whom ye call dead,

In unspoken bliss, instead,

Lives and loves you; lost, 't is true,

you, dear;

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But in the light ye cannot see By such light as shines for you;

have

Of unfulfilled felicity,

never died."

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In enlarging paradise,

Lives a life that never dies.

Farewell, friends! Yet not farewell;

Where I am, ye, too, shall dwell.
I am gone before your face,
A moment's time, a little space.
When ye come where I have stepped,
Ye will wonder why ye wept;
Ye will know, by wise love taught,
That here is all, and there is naught.
Weep awhile, if ye are fain,-
Sunshine still must follow rain;
Only not at death, for death,
Now I know, is that first breath
Which our souls draw when we enter
Life, which is of all life centre.

Be ye certain all seems love,
Viewed from Allah's throne above;
Be ye stout of heart, and come
Bravely onward to your home!
La Allah illa Allah! yea!

Thou love divine! Thou love alway!

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HARRIET O. NELSON.

They say that the sculptor wrought from the face

Of his youth's lost love, of his promised bride,

And when he had added the last sad grace

To the features, he dropped his chisel and died.

And the worshippers throng to the shrine below,

And the sight-seers come with their curious eyes,

But deep in the shadow, where none may know

Its beauty, the gem of his carving lies.

Yet at early morn on a midsummer's day,

When the sun is far to the north, for the space

Of a few short minutes, there falls a ray Through an amber pane on the angel's face.

Some craving for an unknown good, That in the spirit fluttered,

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Our footsteps sought the humble house Unmarked by cross or towering steeple, Where for their First-day gathering came God's plain and simple people?

The air was soft, the sky was large,

The grass as gay with golden flowers
As if the last night's sky had fallen
On earth in starry showers.

And, as we walked, the apple-trees
Shed their late bloom for every comer;
Our souls drank deep of joy and peace,
For it was youth and summer.

Yet through the doorway, rude and low,
The plain-robed folk we followed after,
Our steps, like theirs, demure and slow,
Our lips as free from laughter.

We sat apart, but still were near
As souls may draw unto each other

It was wrought for the eye of God, and Who seek through stronger love to God

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