Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/612

 596 ALBERT SUTLIFFE. [ISoO-tJO. We said, " Let come the darker time ; The hours shall pass like pleasant rhyme ; " We thought the nights all morning prime, The stars would shine alway. We tire of looking o'er the Past ; Our altar-fires grow dim ; We see the snow-clouds gathering cold ; The deadlier mists around us fold ; Ah ! hut our hearts are over-bold ; How dense the shadows swim. We look above and look around, The shadows touch our eyes ; We hear through hollow distance still The moaning wind across the hill, The fierce gust seeking, seeking still, And winning no replies. The stars are out and memory fades ; Alas ! what may be done ! We fold our robes to keep aglow The heart-fires, flickering, burning low. Chilled by the snow-cloud and the snow, And longing for the sun. Behind us like a place of tombs. The Past lies sad and lone ; Before us, dreamed-of, hoped-for, guess'd. And sloping downward unto rest, Glooms the broad Future, all unblest, Visioned, but still unknown. Stand up, my soul, with Hope beside. And search the sky for stars ! It may be that the storm will cease; And from the glorious starlit East, Some angel voice will wliisper peace Down thi'ough thy prison-bars. Look out, my soul, with courage high, Although thou be but one ! What if the Norland, blowing bleak, Fi-eeze all the tears upon thy cheek ! Look upward, if thou canst not speak, And think, " Thy will be done ! " MAY NOON. The farmer tireth of his half-day toil. He pauseth at the plow, He gazeth o'er the furrow-lined soil. Brown hand above his brow. He hears, like winds lone-mufiied 'mong the hills, The lazy river run ; From shade of covert woods the eager rills Bound forth into the sun. The clustered clouds of snowy apple- blooms. Scarce shivered by a breeze. With odor faint, like flowers in feverish rooms, Fall, flake by flake, in peace. In neighboring fields with wearisome ac- cord. Moist brows and sunburnt hands, The brothers of his toil upon the sward Unloose the irksome bands. Straight through scant foliage of the lone field-oak. The broad sun sheds its rays ; Wreath above wreath the towering cottage smoke Curls up from hearths ablaze. And savory scents go forth upon the air. From generous doors swung back. While stout old dames and gentler girls prepare The cheer which doth not lack. By threadlike paths which radiate afield. The fasting bands come in ; And list I the house-fly round the sweets unsealed Maketh a hungry din. 'Tis labor's ebb ; a hush of gentle joy. For man, and beast, and bird ;