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A little while ago:

And now a few poor moments,

Between life and death,

May be proven all too ample

For love’s breath.

Roden Noel (The Pity of It).

There! See our roof, its gilt moulding and groining

Under those spider-webs lying!...

Is it your moral of Life?

Such a web, simple and subtle,

Weave we on earth here in impotent strife,

Backward and forward each throwing his shuttle,

Death ending all with a knife?

Over our heads truth and nature—

Still our life’s zigzags and dodges,

Ins and outs, weaving a new legislature—

God’s gold just showing its last where that lodges,

Palled beneath man’s usurpature.

So we o’ershroud stars and roses,

Cherub and trophy and garland;

Nothings grow something which quietly closes

Heaven’s earnest eye; not a glimpse of the far land

Gets through our comments and glozes.

R. Browning (Master Hugues of Saxe-Gotha).

Hugues of Saxe-Gotha is an imaginary name, but it probably indicates the great Sebastian Bach, who came from that part of Germany. The “masterpiece, hard number twelve,” referred to in the poem, may be (Dr. E. Harold Davies tells me) the great Organ Fugue in F Minor, which is in “five part” counter-point.