Iv

Beside us, and yet far above, She leads us to no base renown-- The Ideal, with her sun-white crown, And starry raiment of her love: She leads us by ascending ways Of Nature to her purposed ends, Who in the difficult, dark days Of trial with her smile defends.

Beyond the years, that blindly grope, To climb with her, from year to year, To some exalted atmosphere, Were more than earthly joy or hope! Though in that atmosphere we find Not her--her influence, pointing to New elevations of the mind By some superior avenue.