POETRY.
LAZ ARITS.
"THE light, which I have followed all this way Out of the darkness, grows into a face;
Thy face, dear friend, whom I so lone have known.
Have we not wandered with twined arms, and walked Through evening fields together ? And those lips, That I have kissed so oft, did they pronounce That dreadful whisper, Lazarus arise '?
For as it came in darkness I was 'ware Of countenances terrible, that gazed Each on the other in drear impotence, As I with sighs arose eluding them.
O face that seemest made to weep and smile With us, and hands all rough with common tasks !
la this indeed Thy sun to which thou haat Recalled me, and are these Thy fields, which grow Slowly from grey to green before my eyes ?
I felt Thee irresistible in the grave.
Forgive me that I talked so lightly, and went 'So unconcerned beside thee in old days.
How is it thou canst care to come and go With such as me, and walk and work with us, 'Thou at whose whisper Death idled and grieved, And knew the voice at which creation shone 'Suddenly ? Yet was I so near to peace ; And I came back to life remorsefully, When the sea murmured again, and fields appeared.
Bat how should I complain P Unto what end I am recalled I know not; but if thou Art here content to be, then why not I?"
STEPHEN PHILLIPS.
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