I

HERBERT TRENCH
(1865 —

THE NIGHT1

PUT aside the branches

That close the Door on gloom;
A glow-worm lit the pathway
And a lamp out of her room
Shook down a stifled greeting;
How could it greet aright
The thirst of years like deserts
That led up to this night?

1 From "Deirdre Wed." Copyright, John Lane. By per

mission.

Slow amid leaves in silence

Rapt as the holy prayFlame into flame we trembled And the world sank away.

RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH
(1807-1886)

Now

HARMOSAN

the third and fatal conflict for the Persian throne was done,

And the Moslem's fiery valor had the crowning victory won.

Harmosan, the last and boldest the invader to defy, Captive, overborn by numbers, they were bringing forth to die.

Then exclaimed that noble captive: "Lo, I perish in my thirst;

Give me but one drink of water, and let then arrive the worst!"

In his hand he took the goblet: but awhile the draught forbore,

Seeming doubtfully the purpose of the foeman to explore.

Well might then have paused the bravest-for, around him, angry foes

With a hedge of naked weapons did the lonely man enclose.

But what fear'st thou ? cried the caliph, "is it, friend, a secret blow?

Fear it not, our gallant Moslems no such treacherous dealing know.

"Thou mayest quench thy thirst securely, for thou shalt not die before

Thou hast drunk that cup of water, this reprieve is thine, no more!"

Quick the satrap dashed the goblet down to earth with ready hand,

And the liquid sank forever, lost amid the burning sand.

Thou hast said that mine my life is, till the water of that cup

I have drained; then bid thy servants that spilled water gather up.

For a moment stood the caliph as by doubtful passions stirred

Then exclaimed: "Forever sacred must remain a monarch's word.

66

Bring another cup, and straightway to the noble Persian give:

Drink, I said before, and perish-now I bid thee drink and live!

SOME MURMUR

OME inurmur, when their sky is clear
And wholly bright to view,

If one small speck of dark appear
In their great heaven of blue.

And some with thankful love are filled,
If but one streak of light,

One ray of God's good mercy gild
The darkness of their night.

In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,
And all good things denied.
And hearts in poorest huts admire
How love has in their aid
(Love that not ever seems to tire)
Such rich provision made.