Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/105

Rh Too quickly stripping off a tatter'd cloak, May leave a treasure hidden in their rags, And thus a Soul, too swiftly separate From earthly things, missing her starry road, Seeks her late lodging in a wild regret Free of the Earth, yet all unfit for Heaven And vainly strives to enter it again. Such Spirits haunt the world with wandering lights, Or cryings from a solitary place. But the True Soul, when called, will pass serene, Calmly, augustly, from her late abode, And, like a dew-drop, upward to the Sun, Exhale, aspire to Him who bade it fall.

(Musingly):

And, yet, there have been noble suicides! The lotus crown'd divine Antinoüs, That last-born lamb in the starry flocks of Heaven. Did he not well? Vicarious sufferer,