Iv

Like deeds of hearts that have not kept Their riches, as a miser, when Sad souls have asked, with eyes that wept, Among the toiling tribes of men, The summer days gave Earth sweet alms In silver of white lilies, while Each night, with healing, outstretched palms Stood Christ-like with its starry smile.

Will she remember him when dull Months drag their duller hours by? With feet that crush the beautiful And leave the beautiful to die? Or never see? nor sit with lost Dreams withered, ’mid hope’s empty husks, And wait, heart-counting-up the cost Of love’s illusions ’mid life’s dusks?