Chapter VIII

So shall she win
A wrestler with sin,
Supremely to a place above the years,
And help men rise
To what is wise
And true beyond their mortal finite scan--
The purblind gaze of man;
Aiding with introspective eyes
His soul to see a higher plan
Of life beyond this life; above the gyves
Of circumstance that bind him in his place
Of doubt and keep away his face
From what alone survives;
And what assures
Immortal life to that within, that gives
Of its own self,
And through its giving, lives,
And evermore endures.

_A POET'S EPITAPH_

Life was unkind to him;
All things went wrong:
Fortune assigned to him
Merely a song.

Ever a mystery
Here to his heart;
In his life's history
Love played no part.

Carve on the granite,
There at the end,
Where all may scan it,
_Death was his friend_.

_Giving him all he missed
Here upon Earth--
Love and the call he missed
All that was worth._

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