298 MY LIFE 



The following poem is probably the last written by my 

 brother. There is no draft or note of it in his rough note- 

 book, and it is written out carefully on a sheet of thin letter- 

 paper which is probably obtained in Para. It was therefore 

 almost certainly written during the two weeks before his fatal 

 illness. 



" Our Better Moments. 



" Uncalled they come across the mind, 

 We know not why or how, 

 And with instinctive reverence 



Ignoble feelings bow; 

 A power strange, yet holy too, 



Breathes through our every sense; 

 Each atom of our being feels 



Its subtle influence. 

 High visions, noble thinking, flash 

 Like meteors through the brain, 

 If Paradise was lost to us, 

 'Tis surely come again ! 

 Better moments ! Better moments ! Ye are sunny angels' wings, 

 Sent to shed a holier radiance o'er all dim and worldly things. 



" Perchance we love to watch awhile, 

 In simple child-like mood, 

 The waving of the summer grass, 



The ebbing of the flood, 

 Or lie upon a mossy bank 



In some secluded shade, 

 When sudden, from before our gaze, 



The grass — the waters fade ; 

 And giving up our being's rein 

 To unknown guiding hands, 

 We float in passive confidence 

 To voiceless spirit lands. 

 Better moments ! Better moments ! Ye are sunny angels' wings, 

 Sent to shed a holier radiance o'er all dim and worldly things. 



" Or sitting in a leafy wood, 



Some still and breathless hour, 

 The joyous twitter of a bird 



Has strange unconscious power ; 

 The power to send through ev'ry nerve 



A thrill of soft delight; 



