A BRAVE LIFE
The arid loneliness of life he knew,
The doubtful darkness of the starless night,
And fear lest he should never see the sight
Of dawn and God the Father breaking through.
Brave offspring of a disenchanted age
He lived as though illusion were not dead;
His was the pain of faiths discredited
Which with new knowledge civil battles wage.
In all his deeds for righteous quests he stood
And we, who watched his face and heard his voice,
Dreamed of the Christ; we had not any choice,
In loving him we knew that God was good—
We knew. And thus, beneath the hooded sky,
Lightly we followed where his pain had made
A path for us; if one should fall, he stayed
To raise him, lest his frailer hope should die.
Ofttimes when summer's day had ceased to shine
And on our London roofs the moon looked down,
We two would wander through the gas-lit town
Speaking in whispers of the things divine;
Or in love's stillness, high above the strife,
We found our spirits strangely catching fire,
And told of that " unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of the buried life."
He knows its secret now; the morning mist
Drifts up the road where his last footprint lies;
And I, as ever when a Christ-man dies,
Stand awe-struck, asking, "Was not this the
Christ?"
His soul craved God. I think we always knew
He would be with us but a little while.
Night vanished; dawn broke—when he saw God
smile
Back like a homing-bird to God he flew.