face.
All, in that darkness, feel His fingers trace
Their features gently, and their hearts record
The feeling, as of one, whose eyes, restored,
Would see, but for the Father's close embrace.
The other is the outer dark--a place
Where hate turns black the light upon it poured.

O God! the only darkness that I dread,
Is where Thou art not--that where Hate's black fire
Surmounts the heavens, to burst with thunder dire
And, in its fall forever, drag the dead
Of heart and spirit--those whom Thy desire
Would fain have made the halo round Thy head.

THE DOOM OF HATE

A spirit passed the Sun, the Moon and Star,
And dwelled and dreamed in darkness all its own.
The music of the spheres, though thither blown,
As faint as fragrance from a flower afar,
Disturbed this spirit's ear, attuned to jar
Of orb with orb; for hate of light, truth known,
Fashions hot worlds which, cooled to clay and stone,
Clash, rising toward calm Heaven, which they would mar.

Ah, if where love was not, he smiled elate,
His smile at God returned, a lightening flash
That shattered him. He saw his planets clash,
Burst and, then, by the downward law of hate,
Sink and leave not a single spark, nor ash,
For the new firmament he would create.

THE EVIL IN THE WORLD

There are two Gods--one, Good, the other, Ill.
They clash in Nature--so the Persian taught,
And long a sect in Europe spread the thought.
Why there is evil is a problem still
To many, who see not in Human Will,
A being that with beauty could have caught
Up to his Maker, had he gladly wrought
With light and warmth, instead of dark and chill.

God said, "Let there be Light," and light was made.
God made not darkness--that is light's exclusion,
Forming a region where, in wild confusion,
Men, Nations, each a ferret, blood-eyed shade,
Worry each other, till, with disillusion
For lamp, comes conscience, crying, "God Betrayed!"

THE EARTH RENEWED BY MEMORY

Ah, in the angel-fall from Heaven, is hope?
The wing-whir discord of the legion's fall
From God forever, mocks my heart's loud call.
Empty of beauty from its base to cope,
The Earth is hollow. Where, then, can I grope
And not be met by echoes that appal?
What! shouts my mind, in wonder that I crawl
And, having skyey wing