(And mine own image, had I noted well!)

Was that my point of turning?—I had thought

The stations of my course should rise unsought,

As altar-stone or ensigned citadel.

But lo! the path is missed, I must go back,

And thirst to drink when next I reach the spring

Which once I stained, which since may have grown black.

Yet though no light be left nor bird now sing

As here I turn, I'll thank God, hastening,

That the same goal is still on the same track.

LXX. THE HILL SUMMIT

THIS feast-day of the sun, his altar there In the broad west has blazed for vespersong;

And I have loitered in the vale too long
And gaze now a belated worshipper.
Yet may I not forget that I was 'ware,
So journeying, of his face at intervals
Transfigured where the fringed horizon
falls.-

A fiery bush with coruscating hair.
And now that I have climbed and won
this height,

I must tread downward through the sloping shade

And travel the bewildered tracks till night.

Yet for this hour I still may here be stayed

And see the gold air and the silver fade And the last bird fly into the last light.

LXXI. THE CHOICE-I

EAT thou and drink; to-morrow thou shalt die.

Surely the earth, that's wise being very old, Needs not our help.

love, and hold

Then loose me,

Thy sultry hair up from my face; that I May pour for thee this golden wine, brim-high,

Till round the glass thy fingers glow like gold.

We'll drown all hours: thy song, while

hours are toll'd,

Shall leap, as fountains veil the changing sky.

Now kiss, and think that there are really those,

My own high-bosomed beauty, who increase

Vain gold, vain lore, and yet might choose our way!

Through many years they toil; then on a day

They die not.-for their life was death, -but cease;

And round their narrow lips the mould falls close.

LXXII. THE CHOICE-II

WATCH thou and fear; to-morrow thou shalt die.

Or art thou sure thou shalt have time for death?

Is not the day which God's word promiseth

To come man knows not when? In yonder sky,

Now while we speak, the sun speeds forth: can I

Or thou assure him of his goal? God's breath

Even at this moment haply quickeneth The air to a flame; till spirits, always nigh

Though screened and hid, shall walk the daylight here.

And dost thou prate of all that man shall do?

Canst thou, who hast but plagues, pre-sume to be

Glad in his gladness that comes after thee?

Will his strength slay thy worm in Hell? Go to:

Cover thy countenance, and watch, and fear.

LXXIII. THE CHOICE-III

THINK thou and act; to-morrow thou shalt die.

Outstretched in the sun's warmth upon the shore,

Thou say'st: "Man's measured path is all gone o'er:

Up all his years, steeply, with strain and sigh,

Man clomb until he touched the truth; and I,

Even I, am he whom it was destined

for."

How should this be? Art thou then so much more

For were thine eyes set backwards in thine head,

Such words were well; but they see on, and far.

Unto the lights of the great Past, new-lit Fair for the Future's track, look thou instead,

Say thou instead, "I am not as these are."

LXXVI. OLD AND NEW ART-III

THE HUSBANDMAN

THOUGH God, as one that is an householder,

Called these to labor in his vineyard first, Before the husk of darkness was well

burst

Bidding them grope their way out and bestir,

(Who, questioned of their wages, answered, "Sir,

Unto each man a penny :") though the worst

Burthen of heat was theirs and the dry thirst

Though God hath since found none such as these were

To do their work like them :-Because of this

Stand not ye idle in the market-place. Which of ye knoweth he is not that last Who may be first by faith and will?yea, his

The hand which after the appointed

By flying hair and fluttering hem,—the

beat

Following her daily of thy heart and feet,

How passionately and irretrievably, In what fond flight, how many ways and days!

LXXVIII. BODY'S BEAUTY

(Lilith)

OF Adam's first wife, Lilith, it is told (The witch he loved before the gift of Eve.)

That, ere the snake's, her sweet tongue could deceive,

And her enchanted hair was the first gold.

And still she sits, young while the earth is old,

And, subtly of herself contemplative, Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,

Till heart and body and life are in its hold.

The rose and poppy are her flowers; for where

Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent

And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?

Lo! as that youth's eyes burned at

Of autumn set the year's pent sorrow free,

And the woods wail like echoes from the sea. LXXXIII.

BARREN SPRING

ONCE more the changed year's turning wheel returns:

And as a girl sails balanced in the wind, And now before and now again behind Stoops as it swoops, with cheek that laughs and burns,

So Spring comes merry towards me here, but earns

No answering smile from me, whose life is twin'd

With the dead boughs that winter still

must bind,

And whom to-day the Spring no more

concerns.

Behold, this crocus is a withering flame; This snowdrop, snow; this apple-blossom's part

To breed the fruit that breeds the serpent's art.

Nay, for these Spring-flowers, turn thy face from them,

Nor stay till on the year's last lily-stem The white cup shrivels round the golden heart,

Lie as they fell? Would they be ears of wheat

Sown once for food but trodden into clay?

Or golden coins squandered and still to pay?

Or drops of blood dabbling the guilty feet?

Or such spilt water as in dreams must cheat

The undying throats of Hell, athirst alway?

I do not see them here; but after death God knows I know the faces I shall see, Each one a murdered self, with low last breath.

"I am thyself,-what hast thou done to me?"

"And I-and I--thyself," (lo! each one saith,)

"And thou thyself to all eternity!"

LXXXIX. THE TREES OF THE GARDEN YE who have passed Death's haggard hills; and ye

Whom trees that knew your sires shall

cease to know

And still stand silent :-is it all a show,A wisp that laughs upon the wall?decree

Of some inexorable supremacy

Which ever, as man strains his blind surmise

From depth to ominous depth, looks past his eyes,

Sphinx-faced with unabashed augury? Nay, rather question the Earth's self. Invoke

The storm-felled forest-trees moss-grown to-day

Whose roots are hillocks where the children play;

Or ask the silver sapling 'neath what yoke

Those stars, his spray-crown's clustering gems, shall wage

Their journey still when his boughs shrink with age.