"His nest is hid in a clustered rose

On the Prince's own roof-tree,

When the Prince incomes, when the Prince outgoes,
The Prince looks up to see.

"Calls him hither or sends him there,
To the Friends of the Holy Three,
With a word of love

CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY J. AND C. F. CLAY, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.

He began lightly and finished seriously this answer to

Whoever said so?

There is no balm i̇' the hyacinthine sea—

No song in the deep tremblings of the moon,
Nor shadow in the humming of the bee,

Nor stillness in the roll of the bassoon

Who ever said so?

But in thy voice is balm for sick men's thought,
And in thy merest movement there is song-
And shade and light into thy whisp'rings wrought,
Make peace and joy my deepest deeps among-
Hath no man said so?

For why? because they each in each are one-
One and no more things each one doth and can.
But thou art all things sweet beneath the sun,
All bright, all strong, all peace to any man—

Me most, who said so.

I will give one further instance of his verse, written privately and laid among his papers.

He was fond of watching from his study and dressingroom windows at Addington the swallows, or rather housemartins which used to go and come in that sunny corner. In two or three of the frescoes in the Chapel he had represented a martin, settling or flying, and in 1889 he wrote these touching verses in memory of his eldest boy:

The Martin.

The Martins are back to cornice and eaves

Fresh from the glassy sea.

The Martin of Martins my soul bereaves

Flying no more to me.

One of them clung to the window-side,
And twittered a note to me.

"There's a Martin beyond or wind or tide
Whom you know better than we.

"His nest is hid in a clustered rose

On the Prince's own roof-tree,

When the Prince incomes, when the Prince outgoes,
The Prince looks up to see.

"Calls him hither or sends him there,
To the Friends of the Holy Three,
With a word of love, or a touch of care.
Why was he sent to thee?"

Martin I know.

And when he went home

He carried my heart from me.

Half I remain. Ere Martinmas come
Go with this message from me.

Say "Thou Prince, he is wholly Thine!
Sent once on a message to me.

Yet suffer me soon, at morning shine,
To see him on Thy roof-tree."

Sept. 16, 1889 (ADDINGTON).

CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY J. AND C. F. CLAY, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.