Page:Twilight Hours (1868).djvu/305

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CRUTCH, THE JUDGE.
261


Thus he spake — I could but hark :
Like an organ pealing,
Pealing softly through the dark,
Spake he, wounding, healing.

But the angel came that night,
Tempted him too strongly;
Mat escaped to boundless light,
Crutch, the Judge, judged wrongly.

Mat, the cripple, was not meant
Lame to go for ever :
Life's great law is discontent —
None that knot may sever.