But it seems that the gate is strait, and the path is ever narrow, and the hill is difficult. And the kinds of victory are various, and the badges of the conquerors are not all one. And the pure heart can wear its pearl as purely, and more safely, in the heavens, where the white array is spotless,--where the desolate heart shall be no more forsaken,--where the BRIDEGROOM, who stands waiting the Bride, says, "Come, for all things are now ready!"--where the SON makes glad. Pure Pearl of Diver's Bay! not for the cheap sake of any mortal romance will I grieve to write that He has plucked thee from the deep to reckon thee among His pearls of price. * * * * * CAMILLE. I bore my mystic chalice unto Earth With vintage which no lips of hers might name; Only, in token of its alien birth, Love crowned it with his soft, immortal flame, And, 'mid the world's wide sound, Sacred reserves and silences breathed round,-- A spell to keep it pure from low acclaim. With joy that dulled me to the touch of scorn, I served;--not knowing that of all life's deeds Service was first; nor that high powers are born In humble uses. Fragrance-folding seeds Must so through flowers expand, Then die. God witness that I blessed the Hand Which laid upon my heart such golden needs! And yet I felt, through all the blind, sweet ways Of life, for some clear shape its dreams to blend,-- Some thread of holy art, to knit the days Each unto each, and all to some fair end, Which, through unmarked removes, Should draw me upward, even as it behooves One whose deep spring-tides from His heart descend. To swell some vast refrain beyond the sun, The very weed breathed music from its sod; And night and day in ceaseless antiphon Rolled off through windless arches in the broad Abyss.--Thou saw'st I, too, Would in my place have blent accord as true, And justified this great enshrining, God! Dreams!--Stain it on the bending amethyst, That one who came with visions of the Prime For guide somehow her radiant pathway missed, And wandered in the darkest gulf of Time. No deed divine thenceforth Stood royal in its far-related worth; No god, in truth, might heal the wounded chime. Oh, how? I darkly ask;--and if I dare Take up a thought from this tumultuous street To the forgotten Silence soaring there Above the hiving roofs, its calm depths meet My glance with no reply. Might I go back and spell this mystery In the new stillness at my mother's feet,--