For something that beguiled us with the thought

Of presences returning, friend to friend.

Seeking again the fellowship they sought,

Pleased that we sing old songs they still may know,

Who sang with us, or listened, long ago.

[30]

[30]

SYMBOL

My faith is all a doubtful thing,

Wove on a doubtful loom,—

Until there comes, each showery Spring,

A cherry-tree in bloom;

And Christ who died upon a tree

That death had stricken bare,

Comes beautifully back to me,

In blossoms, everywhere.

[31]

[31]

TO AN UNKNOWN ANCESTOR

Among the goodly folk whose name I bear,

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