HABEAS CORPUS.
261
And streams rise, pallid, but to flee and turn:
Who soweth here waits miracle to bless
The harvest!
She who smiling goes, a queen,
Seeking with hidden tears and tireless hands
To win a fruitage from these barren lands,—
She knoweth what the laws of harvest mean!
Blades spring, flowers bloom, by all but her unseen;
Joy's halo crowns her, where she patient stands!
Who soweth here waits miracle to bless
The harvest!
She who smiling goes, a queen,
Seeking with hidden tears and tireless hands
To win a fruitage from these barren lands,—
She knoweth what the laws of harvest mean!
Blades spring, flowers bloom, by all but her unseen;
Joy's halo crowns her, where she patient stands!
HABEAS CORPUS.
Y body, eh? Friend Death, how now?Why all this tedious pomp of writ?
Thou hast reclaimed it sure and slow
For half a century bit by bit.
In faith thou knowest more to-day
Than I do, where it can be found!
This shrivelled lump of suffering clay,
To which I now am chained and bound,
Than I do, where it can be found!
This shrivelled lump of suffering clay,
To which I now am chained and bound,
Has not of kith or kin a trace
To the good body once I bore;
Look at this shrunken, ghastly face:
Didst ever see that face before?
To the good body once I bore;
Look at this shrunken, ghastly face:
Didst ever see that face before?
Ah, well, friend Death, good friend thou art;
Thy only fault thy lagging gait,
Mistaken pity in thy heart
For timorous ones that bid thee wait.
Thy only fault thy lagging gait,
Mistaken pity in thy heart
For timorous ones that bid thee wait.
