“Thy spirit’s countenance, the trace

 Of dawning God in the human face.

 “And when yellow leaves came down

 Through the silent mornings one by one

 “To the frosty meadow, as they fell

 Thy pondering heart said, ‘All is well;

 “‘Aye, all is best, for I stake my life

 Beyond the boundaries of strife,’

26

 “And then thy feet returned no more,—

 While years went over the garden floor,

 “With frost and maple, with rose and dew,

 In the world thy river wandered through;—

 “Came never again to revive and recall

 Thy youth from its water burial.

 “But now thy face is battle-dark;

 The strife of the world has graven a mark

 “About the lips that are no more mine,

 Too sweet to forget, too strong to repine.

 “With the ends of the earth for thy garden now,

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