O Sweetbriar, do the dew-drops fall And make your soft leaves glisten? O Sweetbriar, does the west wind call, And do you wait and listen?”
O pretty, shallow, mimic lake! Hedged in by rushes and wild rice, Why is it that the wind can wake And make you angry in a trice? You were so peaceful and so still Before the wind crept round the hill!
The roystering, mischievous wind That stooped and kissed you as you lay In sunshine steeped--all bland and kind-- Then racing, went away--away To stir the languor of the wood, And make its mutterings understood.
And you, O pretty, shallow lake, Must needs get ruffled and perplexed! He kissed and fled, now wide-awake You are at once, and cross, and vexed; Lift your soft arms and let them fall-- There is no stillness now at all.
I think the pain of it is not That it crept down to wake and kiss, And give attentions all unsought, I think the pain of it is this: On your warm breast it did not stay, It kissed, and then raced far away.
You are so jealous you must cry And toss about in much unrest-- The rushes bend, the white gulls fly-- In this wild mood I like you best. You were too peaceful, and too still Before the wind crept round the hill.
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She stood that night with a face so set, So filled with bitterness and despair, Closing my eyes, I can see her yet, Sorrowful, broken, but passing fair.
Her eyes were fixed on the sky above, Where stars were shining so soft and clear; Did the ghosts of innocence and love Steal out of the gloom and stand quite near?
So young to quiver beneath such smart! A fairer brow ’twould be hard to find-- The pity of it! a broken heart, And childhood lying so close behind.
I heard her whisper, “’Twas long ago That I laughed for joy at the touch of morn, Kneeled down and prayed in the light and glow-- Ah me! I cry now--tempest-torn:
“‘Thank God for night, and the world asleep’-- Their eyes pierce through me the long, long day-- Thank God for the darkness, soft and deep, That folds me, and hides me quite away!”
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Say not, _I love the Lord_, unless you find Within you, welling up by day and night, A love, strong, full, and deep, for humankind-- Unless you find it always a delight To show the weary one a resting-place-- To show the doubting one Faith’s shining way-- To show the erring one the door of Grace-- To show the sorrowing one where they may lay Their broken hearts,--the heaviness--the care-- The grief, the agony too sharp to bear.