And woman's fault, though never on earth, may be healed,--but what of
theirs.

'T was fit you should hear it all--What, tears? they comfort me; now you
will go,
Nor wrong your life for the nought you call 'a pair of beautiful eyes,'
_'I will not say I love you.'_ Truly I will not, no.
_'Will, I pity you?'_ Ay, but the pang will be short, you shall wake and be
wise.

_'Shall we meet?_ We shall meet on the other side, but not before.
I shall be pure and fair, I shall hear the sound of THE NAME,
And see the form of His face. You too will walk on that shore,
In the garden of the Lord God, where neither is sorrow nor shame.

Farewell, I shall bide alone, for God took my one white lamb,
I work for such as she was, and I will the while I last,
But there's no beginning again, ever I am what I am,
And nothing, nothing, nothing, can do away with the past.




SERIOUS POEMS,

AND

SONGS AND POEMS

OF