I hung my head: ashamed I moved;
I answered soft with whispering voice,
“O Love! 'tis thou that stand'st reproved;
The fault is thine, if I rejoice;
“Not less this covenant have I made:
I will not fold my hands in sleep
Till aid to those who cry for aid
I stretch—have wept with them that weep.”
VIII.
He sang, “I dreamed. Of thee, all night, one thought