Each seeking and each sought, and both in hell;
But in the tale I mind, they met at last.”
The youth sits up, white-faced and breathing fast:
“They met, you say? What happened? Quick! Oh quick!”
“The old man found the dear lad blind and sick
And both forgave—‘twas easy to forgive—
For oh we have so short a time to live—”
Whereat the youth: “Who’s here? The Black Robe’s gone!
Whose voice is this?”
The gray of winter dawn