"He loveth most who hath been most forgiven." O Simon, hearken, learn the great truth well, No soul on faith's glad wings mounts nearer heaven Than that which hath been prisoned deep in hell.
Methinks I hear her say: "Thou who forgivest My many sins, this off'ring, sweet of breath, I pour on Thee, dear Lord, while yet thou liv'st, For love is ever swift to outrun death."
Upon her are the eyes of Jesus turned, With gaze which seems to strengthen and to bless. Who knows how long the soul of Him hath yearned For some such token of rare tenderness?
The flush of shame flaunts red on Simon's cheeks, About the table idle babblings cease, A deep, full silence, then the Master speaks: "Thy faith hath saved thee, go in peace—in peace."
WHEN THE DUSK COMES DOWN.
Do you know what I will love best of all To do when I'm old? At the close of day When the dusk comes down and the shadows play, And the wind sings loud in the poplars tall, I will love to get into my corner here— The curtains drawn, and never a one To break the stillness—to sit here alone And dream of these good old times, my dear.
In fancy you'll come and sit by my side— I can see your face with my eyes close shut, With the pride and the softness clearly cut, The obstinate chin and the forehead wide, The oval cheek and the smile so warm, The dark eyes full of their fun and power, With the tender light for the tender hour, And the flash of fire that was half their charm.
I'll whisper: 'Twas sweet when youth was our own— The laughter, the nonsense, the freedom from care, The castles we built high up in the air, The secrets told to each other alone! Not all of laughter; the world went wrong, And the shadows pressed till my heart was sore. I'll never be glad, I said, any more, Never be happy, or gay, or strong.