Chapter III

God had been kinder to me,--when
He dipped His hands in fires and snows
And made you like a flower to ken,
A flower that in Earth's garden grows,--
Had He, for pleasure or for pain,
Instead of Death in that domain,
Made Love the gardener to that rose,
Your loveliness, O belle Heléne!
God had been kinder to me then--
Me of all men,
Ah, belle Heléne.

LOVE AND LOSS

Loss molds our lives in many ways,
And fills our souls with guesses;
Upon our hearts sad hands it lays
Like some grave priest that blesses.

Far better than the love we win,
That earthly passions leaven,
Is love we lose, that knows no sin,
That points the path to Heaven.

Love, whose soft shadow brightens Earth,
Through whom our dreams are nearest;
And loss, through whom we see the worth
Of all that we held dearest.

Not joy it is, but misery
That chastens us, and sorrow;--
Perhaps to make us all that we
Expect beyond To-morrow.

Within that life where time and fate
Are not; that knows no seeming:
That world to which Death keeps the gate
Where Love and Loss sit dreaming.

THE END OF ALL

I

I do not love you now,
O narrow heart, that had no heights but pride!
You, whom mine fed; to whom yours still denied
Food when mine hungered; and of which love died--
I do not love you now.

II

I do not love you now,
O shallow soul, with depths but to deceive!
You, whom mine watered; to whom yours did give
No drop to drink to help my love to live--
I do not love you now.