XII.

Again to colder climes we came,

For still we follow'd where she led :

Now mate is blind and captain lame,

And half the crew are sick or dead.

But blind or lame or sick or sound

We follow that which flies before:

We know the merry world is round,

And we may sail for evermore.

IN THE VALLEY OF CAUTERETZ.

ALL along the valley, stream that flashest white,

Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night, All along the valley, where thy waters flow,

I walk'd with one I loved two and thirty years ago.

All along the valley while I walk'd to-day,

The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls away; For all along the valley, down thy rocky bed

Thy living voice to me was as the voice of the dead, And all along the valley, by rock and cave and tree, The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.

Then it grew so tall

It wore a crown of light,

But thieves from o'er the wall

Stole the seed by night.

Sow'd it far and wide

By every town and tower,

Till all the people cried

'Splendid is the flower.'

Read my little fable:

He that runs may read.

Most can raise the flowers now,

For all have got the seed.

And some are pretty enough,

And some are poor indeed;

And now again the people

Call it but a weed.

REQUIESCAT.

FAIR is her cottage in its place,

Where yon broad water sweetly slowly glides.

It sees itself from thatch to base

Dream in the sliding tides.

And fairer she, but ah how soon to die!

Her quiet dream of life this hour may cease.

Her peaceful being slowly passes by

To some more perfect peace.