CRUCE AND CORONA.
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He only says, "Corona, unto theeI give thy teacher's blessing, and repeatThe priestess' words at parting: 'Win thy crown.'"
Then, turning to Crucè, he says, My child,I know thou too hast of thy life-work thought;Oh, ere my spirit wings its flight from earth,Let me my blessing on thee too bestow."
And thus she answers: "O my friend revered!No happy vision hath to me revealedMy destiny, my life-work. Oh, I feelAs if with pen of iron on my soulThese words are deeply graven: 'Bear thy cross.'"
"I know: it, O my child!" the old man cries;"I knew it when upon the moss-grown rockA little child I saw thee stand and gazeWith such mysterious sadness on the throng."
Crucè continues: "Where the Ganges rollsIts dark life-sacrificing tide, I goTo bear the holy light of Heaven's truth."The teacher answers not, but only looksOn her with eyes in which his blessing shinesWith gentle pity mingled.Twilight shadesAre dark'ning round; and friend and pupils part.
