"I have sinned," she said,
"And not merited
The gift He gives, by the grace He sees!
The mine-cave praiseth the jewel, the hill-side
praiseth the star:—
I am viler than these."
V.
Then I cried aloud in my passion, . . unthankful and
impotent creature,
To throw up thy scorn unto God, through the rents
in thy nature!
If He, the all-giving and loving, is served so, what
then
Hast thou done to the weak and the changing, . .
thy fellows of men?
"I have loved," she said,
(Words bowing her head
As the wind bows the wet acacia-trees!)
"I saw God sitting above me,—but I . . I sate
among men,
And I have loved these."
VI.
Again with a lifted voice, . . like a trumpet that
takes
The low note of a viol that trembles, and triumph-
ing breaks
On the air with it, solemn and clear. . "I have
sinned not in this!
Where I loved, I have loved much and well,—I
have loved not amiss.
