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n. The sward (For I had bowed my face on it) I found Grew in my spirit's longed for native land-- At last I was at home.' And here she paused: I must needs weep. I have not been in heaven, Therefore she could not tell me what she heard, Therefore she might not tell me what she saw, Only I understood that One drew near Who said to her she should e'en come, 'Because,' Said He, 'My Father loves Me. I will ask He send, a guiding Angel for My sake, Since the dark way is long, and rough, and hard, So that I shall not lose whom I love--thee.' Other words wonderful of things not known, When she had uttered, I gave hope away, Cried out, and took her in despairing arms, Asking no more. Then while the comfortless Dawn till night fainted grew, alas! a key That with abhorred jarring probed the door. We kissed, we looked, unlocked our arms. She sighed 'Remember,' 'Ay, I will remember. What?' 'To come to me.' Then I, thrust roughly forth-- I, bereft, dumb, forlorn, unremedied My hurt for ever, stumbled blindly down, And the great door was shut behind and chained. The weird pathetic scarlet of day dawning, More kin to death of night than birth of morn, Peered o'er yon hill bristling with spires of pine. I heard the crying of the men condemned, Men racked, that should be martyr'd presently, And my great grief met theirs with might; I held All our poor earth's despairs in my poor breast, The choking reek, the faggots were all mine. Ay, and the partings they were all mine--mine. Father, it will be very good methinks To die so, to die soon. It doth appease The soul in misery for its fellows, when There is no help, to suffer even as they. Father, when I had lost her, when I sat After my sickness on the pallet bed, My forehead dropp'd into my hand, behold Some one beside me. A man's hand let down With that same action kind, compassionate, Upon my shoulder. And I took the hand Between mine own, laying my face thereon. I knew this man for him who spoke with me, Letting me see my Delia. I looked up. Lo! lo! the robed ecclesiastic proud, He and this other one. Tell you his name? Am I a fiend? No, he was good to me, Almost he placed his life in my hand. Father, He with good pitying words long talked to me, 'Did I not strive to save her?' 'Ay,' quoth I. 'But sith it would not be, I also claim Death, burning; let me therefore die--let me. I am wicked, would be
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