Part 6 (1/2)

II

The old churchyard is still as death, A stranger passes to and fro As if to church--he does not go-- The dead night does not draw a breath

A lone sweet lady prays within

The stranger passes by the door-- Will he not pray? Is he so poor He has no prayer for his sin?

Is he so poor! His two strong hands Are full and heavy, as with gold; They clasp, as clasp two iron bands About two bags with eager hold

Will he not pause and enter in, Put down his heavy load and rest, Put off his gar of sin, As some black burden from his breast?

Ah, me! the brave alone can pray

The church-door is as cannon's mouth To sinner North, or sinner South, More dreaded than dread battle day

Noo men pace They pace apart, And one with youth and truth is fair; The fervid sun is in his heart, The tawny South is in his hair

Ay, two ht-- The lone, sweet lady prays within-- Ay, two ht Kneels down in prayer for soray, A blue-eyedheavy in each hand,-- With heavy feet, as feet of clay

Ay, two ht Of step, but still his brow is dark His eyes are as a kindled spark That burns beneath the brow of night!

And still they pace The stars are red, The tombs are white as frosted snow; The silence is as if the dead Did pace in couples, to and fro

III

The azure curtain of God's house Draws back, and hangs star-pinned to space; I hear the low, large uid face

I see her shoulder up the east, Low-necked, and large as womanhood,-- Low-necked, as for soe-wood

She spreads white palms, she whispers peace,-- Sweet peace on earth for evermore; Sweet peace for two beneath the trees, Sweet peace for one within the door

The bent stream, like a scimitar Flashed in the sun, sweeps on and on, Till sheathed like soreat sword nen In seas beneath the Carib's star

The high moon climbs the sapphire hill, The lone sweet lady prays within; The crickets keep a clang and din-- They are so loud, earth is so still!

And two lare in silence there!

The bitter, jealous hate of each Has grown too deep for deed or speech-- The lone, sweet lady keeps her prayer

The vastchariot is rolled; The golden stars are spun and reeled, And woven into cloth of gold

The white ht With perfuht Froe blossohs Above, about the old church door,-- They wait the bride, the bridal vows,-- They never hung so fair before

The two lare as dark as sin!

And yet all seeht,-- The while the lady prays within

IV