22 — HEARTHS HAVEN.
Sometimes she is a child within mine arms.
Sometimes she is as a child within my arms, cower-
ing beneath dark wings (of gloomy thought or appre-



THE HOUSE OF LIFE, 199

bended misfortune) which love has to chase away, with
still tears showering*, and averted face inexplicably filled
with faint alarms. And often, on the other hand, I
crave her deep embrace as a refuge from the hurtling
harms of my own spirit — ^her embrace, which is the
fortified stronghold against all ills, and the sweet store
of sovereign counter-charms. And Love, who is our
light at night and our shade at noon, lulls us to rest
with songs, and turns away from us all the shafts of
shelterless tumultuous day. His face gleams through
his chaunt, like the moon in her rising; and, as soft
waters warble to the moon, so do our spirits, answering
to the song of Love, chime one roundelay.
23 LOVERS BAUBLES.
I stood where Love in brimming armfuls bore.
