Thou didst remember well and long Some fragments of thine angel-song, And strive, through want and wo and wrong To win the world unto it; Thy sin it was to see and hear Beyond To-day’s dim hemisphere— Beyond all mists of hope and fear, Into a life more true and clear, And dearly thou didst rue it; Light of the new world thou hadst won, O’er flooded by a purer sun— Slowly Fate’s ship came drifting on, And through the dark, save thou, not one Caught of the land a token. Thou stood’st upon the farthest prow, Something within thy soul said “Now!” And leaping forth with eager brow, Thou fell’st on shore heart-broken. Long time thy brethren stood in fear; Only the breakers far and near, White with their anger, they could hear; The sounds of land, which thy quick ear Caught long ago, they heard not. And, when at last they reached the strand, They found thee lying on the sand With some wild flowers in thy hand, But thy cold bosom stirred not; They listened, but they heard no sound Save from the glad life all around A low, contented murmur. The long grass flowed adown the hill, A hum rose from a hidden rill, But thy glad heart, that knew no ill But too much love, lay dead and still— The only thing that sent a chill Into the heart of summer. Thou didst not seek the poet’s wreath But too soon didst win it; Without ’twas green, but underneath Were scorn and loneliness and death, Gnawing the brain with burning teeth, And making mock within it. Thou, who wast full of nobleness, Whose very life-blood ’twas to bless, Whose soul’s one law was giving, Must bandy words with wickedness, Haggle with hunger and distress, To win that death which worldliness Calls bitterly a living. “Thou sow’st no gold, and shall not reap!” Muttered earth, turning in her sleep; “Come home to the Eternal Deep!” Murmured a voice, and a wide sweep Of wings through thy soul’s hush did creep, As of thy doom o’erflying; It seem’d that thy strong heart would leap Out of thy breast, and thou didst weep, But not with fear of dying; Men could not fathom thy deep fears, They could not understand thy tears, The hoarded agony of years Of bitter self-denying. So once, when high above the spheres Thy spirit sought its starry peers, It came not back to face the jeers Of brothers who denied it; Star-crowned, thou dost possess the deeps Of God, and thy white body sleeps Where the lone pine forever keeps Patient watch beside it.