Poems by Kate Seymour Maclean

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A little white soul went up to God,
Down the steep west unrolled,
The lily-bells ring underground,
On the early and lamented death of George and Maggie Rosseaux, brother and sister, who died within one week of each other in the autumn of 1875. Young, beautiful and beloved, they were indeed lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death the
Dead leaves are deep in all our forest walks;
The poet's song, and the bird's,
At last, dear love, the day is gone,
All night a slow soft rain,
In the beautiful May weather,
The rowan tree grows by the tower foot,
Cloudy argosies are drifting down into the purple dark,
Art thou not sweet,
Oh lapping waves!--oh gnawing waves!--
The birth day of the Christ child dawneth slow
Break over the waiting hill-tops,
Oh bells of Easter morn, oh solemn sounding bells,
A little bird woke singing in the night,
"O Life, O Beyond,
There is a splendid tropic flower which flings
O Leader fallen by the wayside prone,--
Here the sunshine, filtering down,
I lift my spirit to your cloudy thrones,
Into the west the day goes down,
Marguerite,--oh Marguerite!
Thou comest to the year,
"And Jesu called a little child unto him."
Be pitiful, oh God! the night is long,
Only the commonest flowers
Cradled in ice, and swathed in snows,
Night! the horrible wizard Night!
Out of the dread eternities,
Where shall we write your names, ye brave!
When the earliest south winds softly blow
The wind croons under the icicled eaves--
I touch but the things which are near;
If Thou who seest this heart of mine
Into the darkness and the deeps
Swift and silent and strong
"Oh! spare dual idols of the past,
Dimly and dumbly under the ground,
O rain, Summer Rain! forever,
Along the floors of heaven the music rolls,
The Autumn hills are golden at the top,
Under the orchard boughs,
O not with arms reversed,
Out of the west a voice--a shudder of horror and pity;
"O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, behold, I will lay thy atones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires. And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant st
I.
Discrowned and desolate,
Inscribed to OUR FATHER AND MOTHER, and read on that Anniversary,
Love and Obedience--these the Higher Law
In those dark mornings, deep in June,
I dreamed, and lo, I saw in my dream a beautiful gateway,
From out the dark of death, before the gates
Under the bare brown rafters,
Moss-grown, and venerable it stands,
I wonder what he is thinking
I have been where the roses blow,
Sundown--and silence--and deep peace,--
Oh Sea, that with infinite sadness, and infinite yearning
Above the roofs and chimney-tops,
In the sleep-haunted gloom
Through many-winding valleys far inland,
I never looked upon thy face;
I.
In your beautiful book, dear Mary,
It is the hither side, O Hope,
The moon went under a ragged cloud,
(In an Album.)
Stay yet awhile, oh flowers!--oh wandering grasses,

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