Statio Septima

The heavens are very blue     Above the western hill;     The earth is very still,     I will draw near, and view     The spot     Where he is . . . not.     But O dear cliff, O big, good-natured giant,     I think some delicate dint must still remain     On your broad surface, from the strain     Of limbs so sweetly pliant.     Behold!     The lamb! the lamb! fallen from the very rock!     Cold! cold!     Dead! dead!     His little head     Rests on the very block     That Braddan trod,     Dear lambs! twin lambs of God!     Old cliff, such things     Might move some stubborn questionings,     But now I question not,     See, see! the waterfall     Is robed in rainbows, what!     Our lambs? My Braddan shall have charge     Of him, and lead him by the marge     Of some bright stream celestial.     Braddan shall be a happy shepherd boy;     No trouble shall annoy     That soft green pasture,     Ab, Murillo, saint!     Kind fiiend! that for all sorrowing hearts didst paint     John Baptist and the Lamb, those arms thrown round     That neck! Forgive me, God, that I have found     Some comfort in this little parable,     It gives me strength to climb the hill,     And humbly so return,     God bless the merry burn!     I have no will     But thine, O God! I know that Thou art true,     Be blue, O heavens, be blue!     Be still, O earth, be still!