scorn."
(Wearily.)

"He loved thee not," they made reply.
Drearily.
I said, "Would God had let me die!"
(Wearily.)

II.

My dreams are as a closed up book,
(Drearily.)
Upon whose clasp of love I look,
Wearily.

All night the rain raved overhead,
Drearily;
All night I wept awake in bed,
Wearily.

I heard the wind sweep wild and wide,
Drearily;
I turned upon my face and sighed,
Wearily.

The wind and rain spake unto me,
Drearily:
"What is this thing God takes from thee?"
(Wearily.)

I said unto the rain and wind,
Drearily:
"The love, for which my soul hath sinned."
(Wearily.)

The rain and wind spake unto me,
Drearily:
"What are these things thou still dost see?"
(Wearily.)

I said unto the wind and rain,
Drearily:
"Regret, and hope despair hath slain."
(Wearily.)

"Thou lov'st him still," they made reply,
Drearily.
I said, "That God would let me die!"
(Wearily.)

FINALE.

So let it be. Thou wilt not say 't was I!
Here in life's temple, where thy soul may see,
Look how the beauty of our love doth lie,
Shattered in shards, a dead divinity!
Approach: kneel down: yea, render up one sigh!
This is the end. What need to tell it thee!
So let it be.

So let it be. Care, who hath stood with him,
And sorrow, who sat by him deified,
For whom his face made comfort, lo! how dim
They heap his altar which they can not hide,
While memory's lamp swings o'er it, burning slim.
This is the end. What shall be said beside?
So let it be.

So let it be. Did we not drain the wine,
Red, of love's sacramental chalice, when
He laid sweet sanction on thy lips and mine?
Dash it aside! Lo, who will fill again
Now it is empty of the god divine!
This is the end. Yea, let us say Amen.
So let it be.

THE CROSS.

The cross I bear no man shall know--
No man can ease the cross I bear!--
Alas! the thorny path of woe
Up the steep hill of care!

There is no word to comfort me;
No sign to help my bended head;
Deep night lies over land and sea,
And silence dark and dread.

To strive, it seems, that I was born,
For that which others shall obtain;
The disappointment and the scorn
Alone for me remain.

One half my life is overpast;
The other half I contemplate--
Meseems the past doth but forecast
A darker future state.

Sick to the heart of t