Xviii

“There came no words of comfort from your lips. Not that I asked for pity! that had been As fire unto the scalded or dry bread Unto the famished fallen ’mid the sands! But all your actions said that I was wrong, But how, I know not and have ceased to care; Still standing like one stricken blind at noon, Who gropes and fumbles, feeling all grow strange That once was so familiar; cursing God Who locks him in with darkness and despair.-- Your judgment had been juster had it had A lesser love than mine to judge.--O love, Where lay the justice of thy judge in this?--

‘If thou hadst praised thy God as long As thou hast praised a woman’s eyes, Perhaps thou hadst not suffered wrong, As now, and sat with sighs: But, through thy prayer and praise made strong, Perhaps thou hadst grown wise.

‘If thou hadst bade thy God be more Than I, thy life had not been sad; His love to thee had not been poor As mine. But thou wast mad, And cam’st, a beggar, to my door, And had more than I had.

‘If thou hadst taught me how to love, Nor played with love as monarchs play, My heart had learned right soon enough, From thine, love’s lowlier way. But all thy love stood far above, Nor touched my soul to sway.’