Many a heart that left its country,
Many a heart upon the shore,
Knew that parting was forever,
Said farewell for evermore.

XXXIV.

In that sad and silent evening,
On the sunny, quiet beach,
Lingered little groups of watchers,
But with hearts too full for speech.
As I passed, I knew so many,

That my heart ached too that night, For the yearning love, that, gazing, Strained to see the last faint sight Of the great ship, sailing westward, Down the track of evening light.

XXXV.

None were lonely though,

one sorrow

Drew that evening heart to heart;

Only far from all the others

One lone woman stood apart.

There was something in the figure,
Tall and slender, standing there,
That I knew
yet no, I doubted

That forlorn and helpless air;
When a gleam of sunset glory
Showed her yellow braided hair.

XXXVI.

It was Milly: ere I sought her,
One who knew her, standing by,
Said, "Her people sailed from Ireland,
And she stayed, but none knew why.

They were strong; in that far country
Work such men were sure to find;
They had offered to take Milly,

Pressed her often, and been kind;
They had taken the young children,
Only she was left behind.

XXXVII.

"Michael, too, was with them: doubly Had his fame been cleared by time; For the murderer, lately dying,

Had confessed and owned the crime: And yet Milly, none knew wherefore, Broke her plighted troth to him; Parted, too, with all her loved ones For some strange and selfish whim."... O, my heart was sore for Milly,

And I felt my eyes grow dim.

XXXVIII.

She is still in Ireland; dwelling
Near the old place, and alone;
Just the same kind, loving spirit,
But the old light heart is flown.
When the humble toil is over
For her scanty daily bread,
Then she turns to nurse the suffering,
Or to pray beside the dead:
Many, many thankful blessings
Fall each day upon her head.

XXXIX.

There is no distress or sorrow
Milly does not try to cheer;

There is never fever raging

But you always find her near:
And she knows at least I think so
That I guess her secret pain,
Why her Love and why her Sorrow
Need be purified from stain,
Need in special consecration
Be restored to God again.

The fancies of my twilights
That fade in sober truth,
The longing of my sorrow,
And the vision of my youth;

The plans of joyful futures;
So dear they used to seem;
The prayer that rose unbidden,
Half prayer and half a dream;

The hopes that died unuttered
Within this heart of mine;
For all these tender treasures
My castle was the shrine.

I looked at all the castles

That rise to grace the land,
But I never saw another
So stately or so grand.

And now you see it shattered,
My castle in the air ;

It lies, a dreary ruin,
All desolate and bare.

I cannot build another,

I saw that one decay ;
And strength and heart and courage
Died out the self-same day.

Yet still, beside that ruin,

With hopes as deep and fond,
I waited with an infinite longing,
Only - I look beyond.

PER PACEM AD LUCEM.

DO not ask, O Lord, that life may be
A pleasant road;

I do not ask that Thou wouldst take

from me

Aught of its load;

I do not ask that flowers should always spring Beneath my feet;

I know too well the poison and the sting

Of things too sweet.

404

For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead,
Lead me aright —

Though strength should falter, and though heart should bleed

Through Peace to Light.

I do not ask, O Lord, that thou shouldst shed
Full radiance here;

Give but a ray of peace, that I may tread
Without a fear.

I do not ask my cross to understand,
My way to see ;

Better in darkness just to feel Thy hand
And follow Thee.

Joy is like restless day; but peace divine
Like quiet night :

Lead me, O Lord, till perfect Day shall shine,
Through Peace to Light.

A LEGEND.

I.

HE Monk was preaching: strong his earnest word,

From the abundance of his heart he

spoke,

And the flame spread, in every soul that heard Sorrow and love and good resolve awoke :