Part 2 — THE MASKERS.

Yesternight, as late I strayed Through the orchard's mottled shade,— Coming to the moonlit alleys, Where the sweet Southwind, that dallies All day with the Queen of Roses, All night on her breast reposes,— Drinking from the dewy blooms, Silences, and scented glooms Of the warm-breathed summer night, Long, deep draughts of pure delight,— Quick the shaken foliage parted, And from out its shadows darted Dwarf-like forms, with hideous faces, Cries, contortions, and grimaces. Still I stood beneath the lonely, Sighing lilacs, saying only,— "Little friends, you can't alarm me; Well I know you would not harm me!" Straightway dropped each painted mask, Sword of lath, and paper casque, And a troop of rosy girls Ran and kissed me through their curls. Caught within their net of graces, I looked round on shining faces. Sweetly through the moonlit alleys Rang their laughter's silver sallies. Then along the pathway, light With the white bloom of the night, I went peaceful, pacing slow, Captive held in arms of snow. Happy maids! of you I learn Heavenly maskers to discern! So, when seeming griefs and harms Fill life's garden with alarms, Through its inner walks enchanted I will ever move undaunted. Love hath messengers that borrow Tragic masks of fear and sorrow, When they come to do us kindness,— And but for our tears and blindness, We should see, through each disguise, Cherub cheeks and angel eyes.