O it is better that our faith and love
A thousand times were trampled in the dust,
Than with such calm, cold, throbless hearts to move
Through the fair earth alone—no hope—no trust."
THE MIDNIGHT BANNER.
Once upon a night of sorrow,
Sat I waiting for the morrow,
With my hand upon my forehead,
And a grief upon my heart;
One I loved had rashly spoken
Words by which our hearts are broken—
Fatal words, of bitter meaning,
Such as force our souls apart;
And I sat in tearless sorrow
Till the midnight should depart.
Then, to cool the fever burning
Like a flame my forehead, turning
To the closely-curtained window,
I had drawn the folds aside;
When I saw, all bathed in moonlight,
Floating in the face of midnight,
Like a robed and winged spirit,
A dark banner, long and wide,
Streaming out upon the night-wind
In its lone and solemn pride.
With a motion slow and even,
Up against the starry heaven,
Floated that mysterious banner;
Like a proud and mournful soul,
