Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2/Counsel

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4618878Poems — CounselSarah Piatt
COUNSEL. [IN THE SOUTH.]
My boy, not of your will nor mine
You keep the mountain path and wait,
Restless, for evil gold to shine
And hold you to your fate.

A stronger Hand than yours gave you
The lawless sword. You know not why.
That you must live is all too true,
And—other men must die.

My boy, be brigand, if you must.
But face the traveller in his track;
Stand one to one,—and never thrust
The dagger in his back.

. . . . My boy, if Christ must be betrayed,
And you must the betrayer be,
Oh, marked before the worlds were made!
What help is there for me?

Ah, tell the prophets in their graves,
Who ask of you such blood as this,
"I take Him, then, with swords and staves,—
I will not with a kiss!"