XII.

That tear fell not on Thee, Beloved, yet thou stirrest in thy slumber! THOU, stirring not for glad sounds out of number Which through the vibratory palm-trees run From summer-wind and bird, So quickly hast thou heard A tear fall silently? Wak'st thou, O loving One?--

FOOTNOTES:

[7] It is a Jewish tradition that Moses died of the kisses of God's lips.

_AN ISLAND._

All goeth but Goddis will.--OLD POET.

My dream is of an island-place Which distant seas keep lonely, A little island on whose face The stars are watchers only: Those bright still stars! they need not seem Brighter or stiller in my dream.

An island full of hills and dells, All rumpled and uneven With green recesses, sudden swells, And odorous valleys driven So deep and straight that always there The wind is cradled to soft air.

Hills running up to heaven for light Through woods that half-way ran, As if the wild earth mimicked right The wilder heart of man: Only it shall be greener far And gladder than hearts ever are.