The morning call., 1892-12-18
Il saw her smi!e) But soon their path
Was vague in distant spheres;
AMI then she cast her arms along
The golden barriers,
anu iald her face between her hands,

ana weDt Il heard her tears.)
IL is not in nature that man who loved
SO Loyalty and deeply one who had gone to
the better world should grow grav with u.s.
l shonid reverse the old saying Whom the
gods love die young" The gods have little
TO % with 1t. But with your heart so en-
tireiy In the grave and beyond the grave.
the better world, you will not be kept here
SO very long. Let US read it who love the
gods die young"
L never saw Rossetti smile, but hrs fine,
manly face, dark and shadowy and dream
Iui ano beautiful as Byron's pictures was
at all times pleasant and healthful. And
rlght mere let me say that 1 was never
win MIN much; never belf so much as hum
areas oil others who are all this time re-
specially silent-but you need not stare at
the sun much to see the sun. The man up
toward the North Pole who sees the sun
once year knows quite as much about il.
and perhaps loves il deal better, too. than
the man who lives in Mexico and SO es little
else the year through.
don't think Rossetti esteemed his poetry
SO mighty as his work with the brush, else
now could he possibly have buried his poems
away. as he purpoSed. forever? Or, were
they the deareT, and am | unable to COM
pare the grandeur of his nature and the dis
dam OF praise? But, however. he may have
held 1t. the world Is well divided 10 its
choice between his pictures aud his poetry.
AS Tor myself, am even a poorer judge
such little Incidents in the lives of these
toiers as may light and cheer others who
are trying TO reach. or at least attempt the
same hlgh passes, and / sit in judgment on
nothing | only know there is no delight
for me like Rossetti. either as poet or
painter.
have been told often enough TO believe
1t quite true that Rossetti painted at least
nifty pictures Of that wonderfully beautiful
Woman, Mrs. William Morris. Morris and
q C.f~
AT Oxford Rossetti. with his yearning and
burning love of beauty. discovered the
future wife Of his fellow poet aud painter,
William Morris. 1t is a very romantic
story. very pretty. pure and tender, but too
sacred TO set down here. Rossetti always
held to the day of his death that she was
3he most beautiful woman that eyes ever
Debeld. She is still living. but lives in
great retirement. while her robust and
gifted husband still writes, paints, tolls
with bis hands, does allthings indeed that a
brave, good and gifted mar may do in this
world of work. Yet we paY come to him
later. II you do not weary of these sketches.
just now William Morris is most famous
as a sort 81 socialist OF the Tolstoi order,
and is much talked of as laureate to her
Majesty, to succeed Tepnyson.
But l want 10 say right here before
forget II that the man who will bring 10 San
FRANCISCO, or TO any city In America, one of
those pictures of Mrs. William Morris by
Rossetti viii gain the gratitude of at least
ore citizen, and shall have his thanks to the
end We ought to have one of these
pictures; we can have one il we 60 about il
In the right way. Surely some rich man or
woman going TO England can get one at
some price. Bear in MIND. no matter what
money 1t may cost now, it will grow aud
grow in value each year; for the master is
no more!
l think il | had been right cunning or one
DIT smart when | was with Morris, time
alter time at his house, and saw him tum-
Ding about the floor with his three pretty
children clinRng with their chubby fists to
his great shock of steel gray hair / might
have had at least smaller one of these
pictures by Rossetti What company it
would be TO me nowi A life-size portrait of
the beautiful woman and her three little
girls hung at the end of the dinng-room
when l last broke bread there But this is
private ground and we 60 hence.
However. IN the absence Of ROssettrs pic
lures get his poems They are pictures,
beautiful pictures, pictures of eyerlastIpp
chaneeless beauty. This is the one thing
about R0ssetti that lifts and keeps him above
all other poets. His poems are pictures,
and his pictures are all pictures of beauty.
Here is his picture Of
MARY's GIRLHooD.
This is that blessed Mary, pre-sleet,
GODS virgin Gone is great while. and she
Dwelt young Ia Nazareth of Gslilee
Unto Gods 81 she brought devout respect
Profound simplicity OF Intellect.
And supreme patience. From her mothers knee
faitht III and hopeful; wise IN charity:
strong In grave peace; IN pity circunspect.
So held she through her girlhood; as itwere
An angel-wat cred lily. that near God
6rows and is quiet TN, one dawn at home,
She woke IN her white bed and had no fear
Al aH-yet wept till sunshine. and felt awed:
Because the fulness OF the time come.
Here Is little hearthstone picture of his
dead which shows the tenderness aud soul
OF the great. sad man better than Gould q
whole book Of my asserting:
MY SISTERS SLEEP.
She fell asleep on Christmas eve:
At length the iong-unsrsnted shade
OF weary eyelids oysrweiChed
The ain naught else might yet relieve,
Our mother who bad leaned all day
over the bed from chime 10 hime
Then raised herself for the frsttime
And as she sat her down, ala pray.
Her little workable was spread
VITA work TO finish. FOR the glare
Made by her candle. she had care
To work some distance from the bed.
For my part. i but hid my face
And held my breath and spsSe word;
There was none spoken: but heard
The silence for little space.
Our mother bowed herself and wept:
And both my arms fell. and said:
GOD Knows knew thft she was dead"
And there, all white. my sister slept.
Then kneeIing upon Christmas morn
A little after twelve O'Clock
We said ere the first quarter struck,
"Chrisrs blessing on the newly bornP'
And here we must leave the dead with his
dead; pausing only to say that this little
poem or picture was published before in
Memoriam." JOAQUIN MILLER.