Yet, tho' of world-wide charity,
And in her home most tender dove,
Her treasure and her heart are stored
In the home-land of love:
She thrives, God's blessed husbandry;
She like a vine is full of fruit; 250
Her passion-flower climbs up toward heaven
Tho' earth still binds its root.
I sit and watch my sister's face:
How little altered since the hours
When she, a kind, light-hearted girl,
Gathered her garden flowers;
Her song just mellowed by regret
For having teased me with her talk;
Then all-forgetful as she heard
One step upon the walk. 260
While I? I sat alone and watched
My lot in life, to live alone,
In mine own world of interests,
Much felt but little shown.
Not to be first: how hard to learn
That lifelong lesson of the past;
Line graven on line and stroke on stroke;
But, thank God, learned at last.
So now in patience I possess
My soul year after tedious year, 270
Content to take the lowest place,
The place assigned me here.
Yet sometimes, when I feel my strength
Most weak, and life most burdensome,
I lift mine eyes up to the hills
From whence my help shall come:
Yea, sometimes still I lift my heart
To the Archangelic trumpet-burst,
When all deep secrets shall be shown,
And many last be first. 280