When vain desire at last and vain
Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain,
What shall assuage the unforgotten
And teach the unforgetful to forget?
Shall Peace be still a sunk stream long unmet,—Or may the soul at once in a green
Stoop through the spray of some sweet
And cull the dew-drenched flowering amulet?
Ah! when the wan soul in that golden
Between the scriptured petals softly
Peers breathless for the gift of grace unknown,—Ah! let none other alien spell
But only the one Hope's one name be there,—Not less nor more, but even that word alone.
