Ashes to Ashes.
But its brow is calm and proud;
Yonder, see, the stars are shining,
Though the blossoms here are bowed.
And I tell thee, dark-browed brother,
That our Land is better now
Than when roses, on its bosom,
Blushed beneath a frowning brow.
Call me brother!—call me brother!
Reach thy true hand nearer mine—
It is cold, but mine is colder;
Let them freeze, and, freezing, twine!"
Yonder, see, the stars are shining,
Though the blossoms here are bowed.
And I tell thee, dark-browed brother,
That our Land is better now
Than when roses, on its bosom,
Blushed beneath a frowning brow.
Call me brother!—call me brother!
Reach thy true hand nearer mine—
It is cold, but mine is colder;
Let them freeze, and, freezing, twine!"
"Brother,—"
"Yes, I listen, brother."
"Yes, I listen, brother."
———"I have thought, how can this be?
For the Lord, who gave us stations,
Knows I do not equal thee!"
For the Lord, who gave us stations,
Knows I do not equal thee!"
"Needs it that we should be equal?
Souls have stature as He wills.
Yonder, the night's silvery pulses
Roll in wide and narrow rills,
Yet no one hath right to trample
On the space another fills."
Souls have stature as He wills.
Yonder, the night's silvery pulses
Roll in wide and narrow rills,
Yet no one hath right to trample
On the space another fills."
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