LITMIR.BIZ

      And onward still he went, I following

        Out on the water. But the water, lo,

        Like a thin sheet of glass, lay vanishing!

      The starry host in glorious twofold show

        Looked up, looked down. The moment I saw this,

        A quivering fear thorough my heart did go:

      Unstayed I walked across a twin abyss,

        A hollow sphere of blue; nor floor was found

        Of questing eye, only the foot met the kiss

      Of the cool water lightly crisping round

        The edges of the footsteps! Terror froze

        My fallen eyelids. But again the sound

      Of my guide's voice on the still air arose:

        "Hast thou forgotten that we walk by faith?

        For keenest sight but multiplies the shows.

      Lift up thine eyelids; take a valiant breath;

        Terrified, dare the terror in God's name;

        Step wider; trust the invisible. Can Death

      Avail no more to hearten up thy flame?"

        I trembled, but I opened wide mine eyes,

        And strode on the invisible sea. The same

      High moment vanished all my cowardice,

        And God was with me. The well-pleased stars

        Threw quivering smiles across the gulfy skies,

      The white aurora flashed great scimitars

        From north to zenith; and again my guide

        Full turned on me his face. No prison-bars

      Latticed across a soul I there descried,

        No weather-stains of grief; quiet age-long

        Brooded upon his forehead clear and wide;

      Yet from that face a pang shot, vivid and strong,

        Into my heart. For, though I saw him stand

        Close to me in the void as one in a throng,

      Yet on the border of some nameless land

        He stood afar; a still-eyed mystery

        Caught him whole worlds away. Though in my hand

      His hand I held, and, gazing earnestly,

        Searched in his countenance, as in a mine,

        For jewels of contentment, satisfy

      My heart I could not. Seeming to divine

        My hidden trouble, gently he stooped and kissed

        My forehead, and his arms did round me twine,

      And held me to his bosom. Still I missed

        That ancient earthly nearness, when we shared

        One bed, like birds that of no morrow wist;

      Roamed our one father's farm; or, later, fared

        Along the dusty highways of the old clime.

        Backward he drew, and, as if he had bared

      My soul, stood reading there a little time,

        While in his eyes tears gathered slow, like dew

        That dims the grass at evening or at prime,

      But makes the stars clear-goldener in the blue:

        And on his lips a faint ethereal smile

        Hovered, as hangs the mist of its own hue

      Trembling about a purple flower, the while

        Evening grows brown. "Brother! brother!" I cried;

        But straight outbursting tears my words beguile,

      And in my bosom all the utterance died.

      A moment more he stood, then softly sighed.

        "I know thy pain; but this sorrow is far

        Beyond my help," his voice at length replied

      To my beseeching tears. "Look at yon star

        Up from the low east half-way, all ablaze:

        Think'st thou, because no cloud between doth mar

      The liquid glory that from its visage rays,

        Thou therefore knowest that same world on high,

        Its people and its orders and its ways?"

      "What meanest thou?" I said. "Thou know'st that

        Would hold, not thy dear form, but the self-thee!

        Thou art not near me! For thyself I cry!"

      "Not the less near that nearer I shall be.

        I have a world within thou dost not know—

        Would I could make thee know it! but all of me

      Is thine, though thou not yet canst enter so

        Into possession that betwixt us twain

        The frolic homeliness of love should flow

      As o'er the brim of childhood's cup again:

        Away the deeper childhood first must wipe

        That clouded consciousness which was our pain.

      When in thy breast the godlike hath grown ripe,

        And thou, Christ's little one, art ten times more

        A child than when we played with drum and pipe

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