“Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill! 
  Late, late, so late! but we can enter still. 
  Too late, too late!  Ye cannot enter now.

    “No light had we:  for that we do repent;
  And learning this, the bridegroom will relent. 
  Too late, too late!  Ye cannot enter now.

    “No light; so late! and dark and chill the night! 
  O, let us in, that we may find the light! 
  Too late, too late!  Ye cannot enter now.

    “Have we not heard the bridegroom is so sweet? 
  O, let us in, though late, to kiss his feet! 
  No, no, too late!  Ye cannot enter now.”

    So sang the novice, while full passionately,
  Her head upon her hands, wept the sad Queen.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.

* * * * *

UP HILL.

  Does the road wind up hill all the way?
    Yes, to the very end.
  Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
    From morn to night, my friend.

  But is there for the night a resting-place?
    A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
  May not the darkness hide it from my face?
    You cannot miss that inn.

  Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
    Those who have gone before.
  Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
    They will not keep you standing at that door.

  Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
    Of labor you shall find the sum.
  Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
    Yea, beds for all who come.

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI.

* * * * *

PER PACEM AD LUCEM.

  I do not ask, O Lord, that life may be
    A pleasant road;
  I do not ask that Thou wouldst take from me
    Aught of its load;

  I do not ask that flowers should always spring
    Beneath my feet;
  I know too well the poison and the sting
    Of things too sweet.

  For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead,
    Lead me aright—­
  Though strength should falter, and though heart should bleed—­
    Through Peace to Light.

  I do not ask, O Lord, that thou shouldst shed
    Full radiance here;
  Give but a ray of peace, that I may tread
    Without a fear.

  I do not ask my cross to understand,
    My way to see;
  Better in darkness just to feel Thy hand
    And follow Thee.

  Joy is like restless day; but peace divine
    Like quiet night: 
  Lead me, O Lord,—­till perfect Day shall shine,
    Through Peace to Light.

ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.

* * * * *

ON HIS BLINDNESS.