Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/1057

 'The after-silence, when the feast is o'er, And void the places where the minstrels stood, Differs in nought from what hath been before, And is nor ill nor good.'

Ah, but the Apparition—the dumb sign— The beckoning finger bidding me forgo The fellowship, the converse, and the wine, The songs, the festal glow!

And ah, to know not, while with friends I sit, And while the purple joy is pass'd about, Whether 'tis ampler day divinelier lit Or homeless night without;

And whether, stepping forth, my soul shall see New prospects, or fall sheer—a blinded thing! There is, O grave, thy hourly victory,  And there, O death, thy sting. HENRY CHARLES BEECHING 1859-1919   855. Prayers

God who created me Nimble and light of limb, In three elements free, To run, to ride, to swim: Not when the sense is dim, But now from the heart of joy, I would remember Him: Take the thanks of a boy.