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Sometimes we feel the wish across the mind

Rush like a rocket tearing up the sky,

That we should join with God, and give the world

The slip: but, while we wish, the world turns round

And peeps us in the face—the wanton world;

We feel it gently pressing down our arm—

The arm we had raised to do for truth such wonders;

We feel it softly bearing on our side—

We feel it touch and thrill us through the body,—

And we are fools, and there’s the end of us.

P. J. Bailey (Festus).

It fell upon a merry May morn,

I’ the perfect prime of that sweet time

When daisies whiten, woodbines climb,—

The dear Babe Christabel was born.

...

Look how a star of glory swims

Down aching silences of space,

Flushing the Darkness till its face

With beating heart of light o’erbrims!

So brightening came Babe Christabel,

To touch the earth with fresh romance,

And light a Mother’s countenance

With looking on her miracle.

With hands so flower-like soft, and fair,

She caught at life, with words as sweet

As first spring violets, and feet