NATURAL RELIGION

Up through the mystic deeps of sunny air
I cried to God—­’O Father, art Thou there?’
Sudden the answer, like a flute, I heard: 
It was an angel, though it seemed a bird.

FAITH REBORN

‘The old gods pass,’ the cry goes round;
‘Lo! how their temples strew the ground’;
Nor mark we where, on new-fledged wings,
Faith, like the phoenix, soars and sings.

HESPERIDES

Men say—­beyond the western seas
  The happy isles no longer glow,
No sailor sights Hesperides,
  All that was long ago.

No longer in a glittering morn
  Their misty meadows flicker nigh,
No singing with the spray is borne,
  All that is long gone by.

To-day upon the golden beach
  No gold-haired guardian maidens stand,
No apples ripen out of reach,
  And none are mad to land.

The merchant-men, ’tis they say so,
  That trade across the western seas,
In hurried transit to and fro,
  About Hesperides.

But, Reader, not as these thou art,
  So, loose thy shallop from its hold,
And, trusting to the ancient chart,
  Thou ’It make them as of old.

JENNY DEAD

Like a flower in the frost
  Sweet Jenny lies,
With her frail hands calmly crossed,
  And close-shut eyes.

Bring a candle, for the room
  Is dark and cold,
Antechamber of the tomb—­
  O grief untold!

Like a snowdrift is her bed,
  Dinted the snow,
Faint frozen lines from foot to head,—­
  She lies below.

Turn from off her shrouded face
  The frigid sheet.... 
Death hath doubled all her grace—­
  O Jenny, sweet!

MY BOOKS

What are my books?—­My friends, my loves,
  My church, my tavern, and my only wealth;
My garden:  yea, my flowers, my bees, my doves;
  My only doctors—­and my only health.

MAMMON

(For Mr, G. F. WATTS’S picture)

Mammon is this, of murder and of gold,
To-day, to-morrow, and ever from of old,
Th’ Almighty God, and King of every land. 
Man ’neath his foot, and woman ’neath his hand,
Kneel prostrate:  he, ’tis meant to symbolise,
Steals our strong men and our sweet women buys.

O! rather grind me down into the dust
Than choose me for the vessel of thy lust.

ART

Art is a gipsy,
  Fickle as fair,
Good to kiss and flirt with,
  But marry—­if you dare!

TO A POET

(To Edmund Gosse)