THE HUMAN WORLD.

Here is one picture of the human world:

An unreaped field and Death, the harvester,

Taking his rest beside a gathered sheaf

Of poppy and white lilies. At his side

Passion, with pilfered hour-glass in her hand

Jarring the sluggish sands to haste their flow.

[69]

[69]

THE VOW FORSWORN.

Unweariedly he watches for the sign,

The sign I promised from the farthest goal,

My lover of a world no longer mine,

My human lover with his human soul.

Unweariedly he waits from day to day,

Nor knows, as I know now, that when we meet,

'Twill be as dewdrop on the hawthorn spray,—

The ultimate of God at last complete.

He still remembers that my eyes were blue,

Still dreams the autumn russet of my hair;

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