XV.

If sense of Man's unworthiness With Nature's blameless looks at strife, Should wake with wakening May, and press New-born contentment out of life:

If thoughts of sable breed and blind Should stamp upon the springing flower, Or blacker memories haunt the mind As ravens haunt the ruined tower:—

O then how sweet in heart to breathe Those pure Judean gales once more; From Bethlehem's crib to Nazareth In heart to tread that Syrian shore!

To watch that star-like Infant bring To one of soul as clear and white May-lilies, fresh from Siloa's spring, Or Passion-flower with May-dews bright!

To follow, earlier yet, the feet Of her the "hilly land" who trod With true love's haste, intent to greet That aged saint beloved of God.

Before her, like a stream let loose, The long vale's flowerage, winding, ran: Nature resumed her Eden use; And Earth was reconciled with Man.