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"BONES AND I."
It was not his misfortune, you see, but his crime that bore him down. Its consciousness lay far heavier on his spirit than did his after-punishment, when, weary and desolate, he wailed that he was
"Alone, alone, all, all alone.
Alone on a wide, wide sea,
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony."
The saints, indeed, might not have heard him; how do we know about that? but he was heard nevertheless, and thus he got rid of his burden to raise his head once more in the face of heaven.
He looked upon beauty, nature, animate life, the wonders of the deep, the creatures of his Maker, and "blessed them unaware!"
Enough. The hideous dream vanishes, the unholy spell is broken, and he cries exulting,
