He had no memory of the dead,

But lifted up exultant hands

To hail the future like a boy,

The myriad paths his feet might press.

Unhaunted by old tenderness

He felt an inner secret joy!

A spirit of unfettered will

Through light and darkness moving still

Within the All to find its own,

To be immortal and alone.

 [27] 

[27]

THE VESTURE OF THE SOUL

I pitied one whose tattered dress

Was patched, and stained with dust and rain;

He smiled on me; I could not guess

The viewless spirit's wide domain.

He said, 'The royal robe I wear

Trails all along the fields of light:

Its silent blue and silver bear

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