"Then with new hope, you apotheosized Your cherished art, and sought for excellence And for your own approval; with what end, Your helplessness informs me. You essayed The revelation of the mighty forms That dwell in the unrealized. You sought To shape your best ideals, and to find In the grand scheme your motive and reward. All this blind reaching after excellence, Was but the reaching of your soul for God. Imagination could not touch the height; And you were baffled. So, you failed to find The God your spirit yearned for in your art, And failed of self-approval. "You have now But one resource,--you are shut up to this: You must bow down and worship God; and give Your heart to him, accept his love for you, And feast your soul on excellence in him. So, a new life shall open to your feet, Strown richly with rewards; and when your steps Shall reach the river, I will wait for you Upon the other shore, and we shall be One in the life immortal as in this. O! Paul! your time is now. I cannot die And leave you comfortless. I cannot die And enter on the pleasures that I know Await me yonder, with the consciousness That you are still unhappy." All my life Thus lay revealed in light which she had poured Upon its track. I learned where she had found Her peaceful joy, her satisfying good, And where, in my rebellious pride of heart, Mine had been lost. She, by an instinct sure, Or by the grace of Heaven, had in her youth, Though sorely chastened, given herself to God And through a life of saintly purity-- A life of love to me and love to all-- Had feasted at the fountain of all love. Had worshipped at the Excellence Divine, And only waited for my last adieu To take her crown. I sat like one struck dumb. I knew not how to speak, or what to do. She looked at me expectant; while a thrill Of terror shot through all my frame. "Alas!" She said, "I thought you would be ready now." At this, the door was opened silently, And our dear daughter stood within the room. Alarmed at vision of the sudden change That death had wrought upon her mother's face, She hastened to her side, and kneeling there, Bowed on her breast with tears and choking sobs, Her heart too full for speech. "Be silent, dear!" The dying mother said, resting her hand Upon her daughter's head. "Be silent, dear! Your father kneels to pray. Make room for him, That he may kneel beside you."