THE TWO STARS.
137
Straight before me rise twin hillocksLike to brothers, matched in size,Shutting out the distant landscape,And the flush of evening skies.
While the doubtful face of heavenLooks beyond me and above,As with one red eye of justice,And one lenient eye of love.
Far to Sight though near to Reason,The new risen moon appears,Like a martyr-scar of gloryShining through eternal years.
So! be merciful, thou Heaven!Do not crush me as I standIn the dark and narrow defile,With the hills on either hand.
Where the shadows grew perplexing,And no outlet was to see,Bear this witness to my weakness,That my striving was to thee.
