HON. RODEN NOEL

All their long life lies behind Like a dimly blending dream :

There is nothing left to bind To the realms that only seem.

They are waiting for the boat;

There is nothing left to do : What was near them grows remote,

Happy silence falls like dew; Now the shadowy bark is come,

And the weary may go home.

By still water they would rest In the shadow of the tree:

After battle sleep is best, After noise, tranquillity.

��THOMAS ASHE

8 of. Meet We no Angels, Tansie?

��, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet,

In white, to find her lover;

The grass grew proud beneath her feet,

The green elm-leaves above her :

Meet we no angels, Pansie ?

She said, * We meet no angels now ' ; And soft lights stream'd upon her; And with white hand she touch'd a bough ; She did it that great honour: What ! meet no angels, Pansie ?

�� �