Memory and Hope

Hope tripped on out of sight Crowned with an Eden wreath she saw not fade, And went a-nodding through the wilderness, With brow that shone no less Than sea-bird wings, by storm more frequent made,— Searching the treeless rock for fruits of light; Her fair quick feet being armed from stones and cold, By slippers all of gold.

Therefore my Hope arose From out her swound, and gazed upon Thy face; And, meeting there that soft subduing look Which Peter's spirit shook, Sank downward in a rapture to embrace Thy piercèd hands and feet with kisses close, And prayed Thee to assist her evermore To "reach the things before."