This is the story of Moses—
Eve got a man from the Lord,
And his name was Cain, and another
Called Abel, the evil-starred;
And the brothers quarreled at their worship,
And Abel, the meek, was slain,
And Death shook hands with the slayer,
His first and best friend, Cain.
This is the story of Moses
Of how our people began,
Of the broken law and the bloodshed—
First fruits of the God-sent man;
This is the story of Moses,
The earliest scribe who writ,
And all the scribes who are writing
Don't vary the tale a whit.
PARTHENOPE TO ULYSSES.
O king! what is the quest that evermore
Foredooms thy feet to roam, yet blinds thine eyes?
Why seek ye still for life's imperfect prize,
Or turn thy weary sail from shore to shore,
When here thou layest aside the ills of yore
To calm thy soul with dreams? Let it suffice—
This heart-sick burden of the worldly-wise—
That ye have borne it and the task is o'er,
Here see the world fade like a spark of fire,
While all thy restless ways grow full of peace,
And wear the fittest crown for them that tire
Their souls with life's unraveled mysteries,—
Above the old red roses of desire
The languid lotus of desire's surcease!
DEATH.
I am the outer gate of life where sit
Faith and Unfaith, those two interpreters
That spell in diverse ways what God has writ
In symbols on the archway of the years.