And thinkest thou this—
That thou judgest aright
Thy heart as it is
In God’s and man’s sight?
Fool, take up thy light,
And descend the stair steep
To thy heart’s dungeons deep,
And search them and sweep
Till their ghosts are unmasked;
Else when judgment is come
Thou wilt stand stark and dumb
At the first question asked.
THE TWO MISTRESSES.
Ah, woe is me, my heart’s in sorry plight,
Enamoured equally of Wrong and Right;
Right hath the sweeter grace,
But Wrong the prettier face:
Ah, woe is me, my heart’s in sorry plight.
And Right is jealous that I let Wrong stay;
Yet Wrong seems sweeter when I turn away.
Right sober is, like Truth,
But Wrong is in her youth;
So Right is jealous that I let Wrong stay.
When I am happy, left alone with Right,
Then Wrong flits by and puts her out of sight;
I follow and I fret,
And once again forget
That I am happy, left alone with Right.
Ah, God! do Thou have pity on my heart!
A puppet blind am I, take Thou my part!
Chasten my wandering love,
Set it on things above:
Ah, God! do Thou take pity on my heart!
IN THE WOODS.
This is God’s house—the blue sky is the ceiling,
This wood the soft green carpet for His feet,
Those hills His stairs, down which the brooks come stealing,
With baby laughter making earth more sweet.