A Hidden Life and Other Poems eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 219 pages of information about A Hidden Life and Other Poems.

Bring forth your riches,—­let them go,
  Nor mourn the lost control;
For if ye hoard them, surely so
  Their rust will reach your soul.

Cast in your coins; for God delights
  When from wide hands they fall;
But here is one who brings two mites,
  “And yet gives more than all.”

She heard not, she, the mighty praise;
  Went home to care and need: 
Perchance the knowledge still delays,
  And yet she has the meed.



They give Him freely all they can,
  They give Him clothes and food;
In this rejoicing, that the Man
  Is not ashamed they should.

Enough He labours for his hire;
  Yea, nought can pay his pain;
The sole return He doth require
  Is strength to toil again.

And this, embalmed in truth, they bring,
  By love received as such;
Their little, by his welcoming,
  Transformed into much.



Strangely thy whispered message ran,
  Almost in form behest! 
Why came in dreams the low-born man
  To part thee from thy rest?

It may be that some spirit fair,
  Who knew not what must be,
Fled in the anguish of his care
  For help for him to thee.

But rather would I think thee great;
  That rumours upward went,
And pierced the palisades of state
  In which thy rank was pent;

And that a Roman matron thou,
  Too noble for thy spouse,
The far-heard grandeur must allow,
  And sit with pondering brows.

And so thy maidens’ gathered tale
  For thee with wonder teems;
Thou sleepest, and the prisoner pale
  Returneth in thy dreams.

And thou hast suffered for his sake
  Sad visions all the night: 
One day thou wilt, then first awake,
  Rejoice in his dear light.



The empty pitcher to the pool
  She bore in listless mood: 
In haste she turned; the pitcher full
  Beside the water stood.

To her was heard the age’s prayer: 
  He sat upon the brink;
Weary beside the waters fair,
  And yet He could not drink.

He begged her help.  The woman’s hand
  Was ready to reply;
From out the old well of the land
  She drew Him plenteously.

He spake as never man before;
  She stands with open ears;
He spoke of holy days in store,
  Laid bare the vanished years.

She cannot grapple with her heart,
  Till, in the city’s bound,
She cries, to ease the joy-born smart,
  “I have the Master found.”

Her life before was strange and sad;
  Its tale a dreary sound: 
Ah! let it go—­or good or bad,
  She has the Master found.

Project Gutenberg
A Hidden Life and Other Poems from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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