WILLIAM WATSON

4 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 Trayers

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.

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