Is my darling tired already,Tired of her day of play?
Draw your little stool beside me,Smooth this tangled hair away.
Can she put the logs together,Till they make a cheerful blaze?
Shall her blind old Uncle tell her Something of his youthful days?
Hark!The wind among the cedars Waves their white arms to and fro;I remember how I watched them Sixty Christmas Days ago:
Then I dreamt a glorious vision Of great deeds to crown each year -Sixty Christmas Days have found me Useless,helpless,blind--and here!
Yes,I feel my darling stealing Warm soft fingers into mine -Shall I tell her what I fancied In that strange old dream of mine?
I was kneeling by the window,Reading how a noble band,With the red cross on their breast-plates,Went to gain the Holy Land.
While with eager eyes of wonder Over the dark page I bent,Slowly twilight shadows gathered Till the letters came and went;Slowly,till the night was round me;
Then my heart beat loud and fast,For I felt before I saw it That a spirit near me passed.
Then I raised my eyes,and shining Where the moon's first ray was bright Stood a winged Angel-warrior Clothed and panoplied in light:
So,with Heaven's love upon him,Stern in calm and resolute will,Looked St.Michael--does the picture Hang in the old cloister still?
Threefold were the dreams of honour That absorbed my heart and brain;Threefold crowns the Angel promised,Each one to be bought by pain:
While he spoke,a threefold blessing Fell upon my soul like rain.
HELPER OF THE POOR AND SUFFERING;
VICTOR IN A GLORIOUS STRIFE;
SINGER OF A NOBLE POEM:
Such the honours of my life.
Ah,that dream!Long years that gave me Joy and grief as real things Never touched the tender memory Sweet and solemn that it brings -Never quite effaced the feeling Of those white and shadowing wings.
Do those blue eyes open wider?
Does my faith too foolish seem?
Yes,my darling,years have taught me It was nothing but a dream.
Soon,too soon,the bitter knowledge Of a fearful trial rose,Rose to crush my heart,and sternly Bade my young ambition close.
More and more my eyes were clouded,Till at last God's glorious light Passed away from me for ever,And I lived and live in night.
Dear,I will not dim your pleasure,Christmas should be only gay -In my night the stars have risen,And I wait the dawn of day.
Spite of all I could be happy;
For my brothers'tender care In their boyish pastimes ever Made me take,or feel a share.
Philip,even then so thoughtful,Max so noble,brave and tall,And your father,little Godfrey,The most loving of them all.
Philip reasoned down my sorrow,Max would laugh my gloom away,Godfrey's little arms put round me,Helped me through my dreariest day;While the promise of my Angel,Like a star,now bright,now pale,Hung in blackest night above me,And I felt it could not fail.
Years passed on,my brothers left me,Each went out to take his share In the struggle of life;my portion Was a humble one--to bear.
Here I dwelt,and learnt to wander Through the woods and fields alone,Every cottage in the village Had a corner called my own.
Old and young,all brought their troubles,Great or small,for me to hear;I have often blessed my sorrow That drew others'grief so near.
Ah,the people needed helping -
Needed love--(for Love and Heaven Are the only gifts not bartered,They alone are freely given)-And I gave it.Philip's bounty,(We were orphans,dear,)made toil Prosper,and want never fastened On the tenants of the soil.
Philip's name (Oh,how I gloried,He so young,to see it rise!)Soon grew noted among statesmen As a patriot true and wise.
And his people all felt honoured To be ruled by such a name;I was proud too that they loved me;
Through their pride in him it came.
He had gained what I had longed for,I meanwhile grew glad and gay,'Mid his people,to be serving Him and them,in some poor way.
How his noble earnest speeches,With untiring fervour came;HELPER OF THE POOR AND SUFFERING;
Truly he deserved the name!
Had my Angel's promise failed me?
Had that word of hope grown dim?
