To love and rest.

Peace, heart of mine! no longer sigh to wander;
Lose not thy life in barren quest.
There are no happy islands over yonder;
Come home and rest.

1874.




THE HERMIT THRUSH

O wonderful! How liquid clear
The molten gold of that ethereal tone,
Floating and falling through the wood alone,
A hermit-hymn poured out for God to hear!

_O holy, holy! holy! Hyaline,
Long light, low light, glory of eventide!
Love far away, far up,--love divine!
Little love, too, for ever, ever near,
Warm love, earth love, tender love of mine,
In the leafy dark where you hide,
You are mine,--mine,--mine!_

Ah, my beloved, do you feel with me
The hidden virtue of that melody,
The rapture and the purity of love,