Page:The Soul of a Century.djvu/111



When God was at His Mercy’s height, The Human heart He fashioned, And in eternal memory Placed therein his love impassioned.

And when His kind prophetic eye, Upon the heart had rested, God wept with joy when He beheld Happiness thus arrested.

But as he wept, into the heart A tear dropped, without malice, As oft a dewdrop falls within A floweret’s thirsty chalice.

And that is why Love brings a pain But a pain so dear and tender That we must pity hundredfold Hearts empty of its splendor.

And that is why Love holds of Joy And Sorrow equal measure, And often when the tear is stirred, The heart bursts with its treasure.

Though your life be straight or turning, Be it peaceful, be it stirred, Little tears and much of yearning, Always fulfillment deferred. Though it drag or rush unchanneled, Be a rose or a barren glade, You will always be impaneled ’Twixt a double pointed blade. When your blood stream stains the saber And your weeping stirs the night Man and even God will waver To assist you in your plight. You must suffer in lifers maelstrom, Though you win, or yield to fear, Til you’ve touched Life’s very bottom— You know not that Death is near.