Victim! hath set its promise in thine eye:
A light is there, too quenchless for the tomb,
Bright earnest of a nobler destiny;
Telling of answers, in some far-off sphere,
To the deep souls that find no echo here.
COME HOME!
Come home! There is a sorrowing breath
In music since ye went,
And the early flower-scents wander by
With mournful memories blent.