And Warden of my soul's stained house, where love and hate are born,
O make it clean, if swept must be with pain's rough broom of thorn!
And quiet impose, so straining ears with world-din racked and torn,
May catch what God doth say.
———
A GOOD MAN
A good man never dies—
In worthy deed and prayer,
And helpful hands, and honest eyes,
If smiles or tears be there;