THE GHOST-FLOWER, AND CHILD. 
841 
Somebody comes and cometh in might ; 
Ah. winter ! winter ! there cometh in chase 
A Power more strong than thou canst embrace, 
For beauty and violets bloom in the race ! 
Gentle Bird I gentle Bird, come from the sun, 
The blue on your back and sky are as one ! 
Gentle Bird ! gentle Bird, come ye to day 
To tell me of pardon — then go away ! 
Gentle Bird ! gentle Bird ! why is it so 
You and I struggle through such a dark woe ? 
Dreary, ah dreary the front of the Earth, 
Gentle Bird tell me why pity is dearth ? 
Gentle Bird ! gentle Bird ! know they thy song ? 
Gentle Bird ! say is it they that are wrong? 
Gentle Bird tell me then — tell me how long 
The good God lets us go scorning the wrong ? 
Gentle Bird ! gentle Bird ! tell me how long 
Will sad things be humble and bad things be strong ? 
Will virtue be poor, yet go yearning ? 
Will vice have great store yet go earning — 
Earning of weak ones still more ? 
Tell it me, gentle bird, I so yearn for thy lore. 
Must greatest strength, then, crush the meekest ? 
Must greatest length, then, bend the more ? 
The greatest height, be all the bleakest — 
And the greatest hearts — be they most sore ? 
Must the brightest flowers God gave the hours, 
Eeach our sad eyes through evil powers ? 
Tell me, then, gentle bird, why is it so ? 
You twitter, and twitter, and twitter a song, 
Art thou never cold — is the day never long ? 
Do never Hawks haunt thee and Eagles scream loud? 
Croak Ravens no Portent — see ye no leaf shroud ? 
Doth thy bright eye quail — or thy little heart fail 
When rustling by thee, they heavily sail ? 
