Say thou, his will be done who is the good! His will be borne who knoweth how to bear! Who also in the night had need of prayer, Both when awoke divinely longing mood, And when the power of darkness him withstood. For what is coming take no jot of care: Behind, before, around thee as the air, He o'er thee like thy mother's heart will brood. And when thou hast wearied thy wings of prayer, Then fold them, and drop gently to thy nest, Which is thy faith; and make thy people blest With what thou bring'st from that ethereal height, Which whoso looks on thee will straightway share: He needs no eyes who is a shining light!
TO AUBREY DE VERE.
Ray of the Dawn of Truth, Aubrey de Vere, Forgive my play fantastic with thy name, Distilling its true essence by the flame Which Love 'neath Fancy's limbeck lighteth clear. I know not what thy semblance, what thy cheer; If, as thy spirit, hale thy bodily frame, Or furthering by failure each high aim; If green thy leaf, or, like mine, growing sear; But this I think, that thou wilt, by and by-- Two journeys stoutly, therefore safely trod-- We laying down the staff, and He the rod-- So look on me I shall not need to cry-- "We must be brothers, Aubrey, thou and I: We mean the same thing--will the will of God!"