Fleeing the earth, with pain upon her brow.


_THE WANDERER_

All night my thoughts have rested in God's fold;
They lay beside me here upon the bed.
At dawn I woke: the air beat sad and cold.
I told them o'er--Ah, God, one thought had fled.

Into what dark, deep chasm this wayward one
Has sunk, I scarcely know; I will not chide.
O Shepherd, leave me! Seek this lamb alone.
The ninety-nine are here. They will abide.


"_NATURE IS THE LIVING MANTLE OF GOD_"--_GOETHE_

O for the time when some impetuous breeze
Will catch Thy garment, and, like autumn trees,
Toss it and rend it till Thou standest free,
And end Thy long secluded reverie!

Still now its beauty folds Thee, and--as she
Who kissed Thy garment and had health from Thee--
I feel the sun, or hear some bird in bliss,
And Thou hast then my sudden, humble kiss.


_SECRET PRAYER_