The Son of the Wolf

CONTENTS The Souls Destroyer . Loves Coming . In a Lodging House . Autumn . Sleep . Death . Beautys Light Lines to a Sparrow . A Drinking Song . Love Absent . The Prover . Saints and Lodgers . The Lodging House Fire The Hill-side Park page vii., j xxi., , xxiii., , xxvi., 9 xxvi i., , xxix. XXX., , xxxii., , xxxv., , xxxvii., , xxxviii. I xlii. 9 xlv. THE SOULS DESTROYER London What utterance the mind finds here In its academy of art, more rich Than that proud temple which made Ophir poor, And the resources famed of Shebas Queen. And its museums, hoarding up the past, With their rare bones of animals extinct And woven stuffs embroidered by the East Ere other hemispheres could know that Peace. Had trophies pleasanter to win than War The great man, wrought to very life in stone-. Of genius, that raises spirits that It cannot lay until their will is wrought-Till in their eyes we seek to wander awed, Lost in the minds immensity, to find The passage barred, the spirit gone away. And not without sweet sounds to hear as I Have heard the music, like a hiding chiId, Low chuckling its delight behind a wall, Which, with a sudden burst and joyous cry, Out leapt and on my heart threw its sweet weight-When strolling in the palace-bounded parks Of our great city on a summers morn. Now, one who lives for long in London town Doth feel his love divided tween the two-A citys noise and Natures quiet call vii. His heart is as a mothers, that can hear Voices of absent children oer the sea Calling to her, and childrens words at home. Een when old Thames rolls in his fog, and men Are lost, and only blind men know their way When Morning borrows of the Evenings lamps, Or when bewildered millions battle home Withstifled throats, and eyes that burn with pain-Still are there lovers faithful to such moods. But in thy slums, where I have seen men gaunt, In their vile prisons where they wander starved Without a jailer for their common needs-Heard children whimper to their mothers moan Where rich ones, had they love, with willing hands, Have privilege to win their godhead soon By charity thats needless in new realms-Oh, who can love thy slums with starving ones Where children live, like flowers in Oceans dells, Unvisited by light or balmy wind As daffodils, that plead with their sweet smiles Our charity for their rude father March. Thy place is in the slums, 0 Charity, These are thy churches for thy visitings- The charity that seeks is nobler far Than charity that must at home be sought. This London served my life for full five years. . In sheer disgust to know intemperance And poverty, and leaning to the sot Who lays this precious intellect to sleep, As though no beauty was in all the world, With heaven and earth scarce worthy of a thought, And helpless grown of every future joy-Methought return to Nature might restore Youths early peace and faiths simplicity. Though Hope be an illusion, yet our life Were never so bewildered as without it An April day of sunny promises When we are suffering actual cold and want, And child of Discontent-without such hints Of coming joy Lifes name were Vanity...