While the rushing of the iron steel is stirred ?
When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us,
Pass by, hearing not, or answer not a word.
And we hear not (for the wheels in their resounding)
Strangers speaking at the door.

Is it likely God, with angels singing round him,
Hears our weeping any more?

"Two words, indeed, of praying we remember, And at midnight's hour of harm,

'Our Father,' looking upward in the chamber, We say softly for a charm.

We know no other words, except Our Father,' And we think that, in some pause of angels' song, God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather,

And hold both within His right hand, which is strong.

'Our Father!' If He heard us, He would surely (For they call Him good and mild)

Answer, smiling down the steep world very purely,

"

'Come and rest with me, my child.'

'But no!" say the children, weeping faster,

He is speechless as a stone.

And they tell us of His image is the master
Who commands us to work on.

Go to!" say the children-" up in Heaven,
Dark, wheel-like, turning clouds are all we find.
Do not mock us; grief has made us unbelieving-
We look up for God, but tears have made us blind.”
Do you hear the children weeping and disproving,
O my brothers, what ye preach?

For God's possible is taught by His world's loving, And the children doubt of each.

And well may the children weep before you!
They are weary ere they run.

They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory,
Which is brighter than the sun.

They know the grief of man without his wisdom
They sink in man's despair without its calm;
Are slaves, without the liberty in Christdom,
Are martyrs, by the pang without the palm—
Are worn, as if with age, yet unretrievingly
The harvest of its memories cannot reap-
Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly.
Let them weep! let them weep!

They look up, with their pale and sunken faces, And their look is dread to see,

For they mind you of their angels in high places, With eyes turned on deity!

;

How long," they say, "how long, O cruel nation, Will you stand, to move the world, on a child's heart

Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation,
And tread onward to your throne amid the mart?
Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper,
And its purple shows your path!

But the child's sob in the silence curses deeper
Than the strong man in his wrath."

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST

She no

Mrs. Browning was certainly a romantic little girl; but she did not write ready-made romance. doubt thought of the beautiful things that were to happen to her, as does "Little Ellie" in her poem.

LITTLE Ellie sits alone

'Mid the beeches of a meadow
By a stream-side on the grass,
And the trees are showering down
Doubles of their leaves in shadow
On her shining hair and face.

She has thrown her bonnet by,
And her feet she has been dipping
In the shallow water's flow:
Now she holds them nakedly
In her hands all sleek and dripping
While she rocketh to and fro.

Little Ellie sits alone,

And the smile she softly uses

Fills the silence like a speech
While she thinks what shall be done,
And the sweetest pleasure chooses
For her future within reach.

Little Ellie in her smile
Chooses "I will have a lover,
Riding on a steed of steeds:
He shall love me without guile,
And to him I will discover

The swan's nest among the reeds.

"And the steed shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble,

With an eye that takes the breath: And the lute he plays upon Shall strike ladies into trouble,

As his sword strikes men to death.

"And the steed it shall be shod All in silver, housed in azure,

And the mane shall swim the wind; And the hoofs along the sod Shall flash onward and keep measure, Till the shepherds look behind.

"But my lover shall not prize All the glory that he rides in, When he gazes in my face:

He will say, 'O Love thine eyes Build the shrine my soul abides in, And I kneel here for thy grace!'

'Then, ay, then he shall kneel low, With the red-roan steed anear him Which shall seem to understand, Till I answer, "Rise and go! For the world must love and fear him Whom I gift with heart and hand.'

Then he will arise so pale,

I shall feel my own lips tremble
With a yes I must not say;
Nathless maiden-brave, 'Farewell,'

I will utter and dissemble

'Light to-morrow with to-day!

"Then he'll ride among the hills
To the wide world past the river
There to put away all wrong;
To make straight distorted wills,
And to empty the broad quiver
Which the wicked bear along.

"Three times shall a young foot-page Swim the stream and climb the mountain And kneel down beside my feet'Lo, my master sends this gage, Lady, for thy pity's counting! What wilt thou exchange for it?'

And the first time I will send
A white rosebud for a guerdon,
And the second time a glove;
But the third time I may bend
From my pride and answer-' Pardon,
If he comes to take my love.'

"Then the young foot-page will run,
Then my lover will run faster,
Till he kneeleth at my knee :
'I am a duke's eldest son,
Thousand serfs do call me master,
But, O Love, I love but thee!'

He will kiss me on the mouth

Then, and lead me as a lover

Through the crowds that praise his deeds: And when soul-tied by one troth,

Unto him I will discover

That swan's nest among the reeds."