"Bethink thee, Stephen, when didst thou before, Ever, thus will and straight unwill, thus halt, Thus parley with thyself, thus stand in doubt Like a reed shaken with the wind, as now I see thee here? Thou art not like thyself; Not like that Stephen, ready, combative, Thy stature still elastically tall To tower and overtop and overfrown Whatever front of menace challenged thee. By thy changed state, I pray thee, be advised. God teaches thee hereby. He does not wish Thy will with thy desire to be at war. Give up thy heady will, and let desire, Divinely wise, the wisdom of the heart, Guide thee; her ways are ways of pleasantness, And all her paths are peace." Again well pleased With her own argument, Ruth tearful smiled A smile that, tenfold tender through those tears, Was argument to Stephen more than words. From deep within he heaved a sigh and said: "Oh! Woman! Woman! Ruth, thou teachest me How Adam could, by Eve's enticement drawn, Be even beguiled to die. And now, to live, Not die, my Eve entices me. O Ruth, I feel, I feel, doubt not but that I feel, The sweet, the subtly sweet, dissolving spell Of wish infused by thee, with thee to live, With thee and for thee, nay, in thee, as thou In me--this twain one life, how dear, how dear! O wife, what is there that I could not bear And dare of hard and high, wert thou, with smiles And tears and love, for Christ but eloquent, As all too well I feel thee eloquent For our sweet selves?" Ruth's heart sank, but she said: "O Stephen, for our children!" Then she threw Her head upon his bosom, there in tears, With passionate sobs and throbs, poured out her heart.