And much that might have swayed it past recall
Over the margin of sin's dread abyss.
'Twas not that Hubert was a chastened saint,
But love within the brother's ardent soul
Invested him with raiment pure and white—
Love holding from assoil the fabric fine
Itself had wove, and still will choose to weave
So long as life is life, or love is love.
Thus, when unto Giovanni came a dawn
That kindled to a conscious glow of health