Gerd.
Yea!
Here thou camest churchward, too!
Brand.
Hence! a thousand miles away!—
How I long to fly afar,
Where the sunlight and the balm
And the holy hush of calm,
And Life's summer-kingdoms are!
[Bursts into tears.]
Jesus, I have cried and pleaded,—
From thy bosom still outcast;
Thou hast pass'd me by unheeded
As a well-worn word is passed;
Of salvation's vesture, stain'd
With the wine of tears unfeign'd,
Let me clasp one fold at last!
Gerd.
[Pale.]
What is this? Then weepest, thou,
Hot tears, till thy cheek is steaming,—
And the glacier's death-shroud streaming
Silently from crag and crest,—
And my memory's frozen tides
Melt to weeping in my breast,—
And the snowy surplice glides
Down the Ice-priest's giant sides—
[Trembling.]
Man, why wept'st thou not till now?
Brand.
[Radiant, clear, and with an air of renewed youth.]
Through the Law an ice-track led,—
Then broke summer overhead!
Till to-day I strove alone
