 | Women must weep |  |
THE SNOW-LINE.
She came to the mountain, grand and high,
Where she heard that Pity dwelt,
But she brought no offering save a sigh,
And a heart that humbly knelt;
For it look'd like a ladder up to God,
As it rose serene and fair,
And for years she had dumbly, darkly trod
On the lowliest earthly stair;
And she thought she would nearer be to Him,
In the holiness Divine,
And she knew not of the border dim,
At the dread snow-line.
Where she heard that Pity dwelt,
But she brought no offering save a sigh,
And a heart that humbly knelt;
For it look'd like a ladder up to God,
As it rose serene and fair,
And for years she had dumbly, darkly trod
On the lowliest earthly stair;
And she thought she would nearer be to Him,
In the holiness Divine,
And she knew not of the border dim,
At the dread snow-line.
To the mountain in her grief she came,
Where it soar'd above the cloud,
In the shadow of her human shame
That enwrapt her as a shroud;
For she hoped to find a purer dress,
And to put her rags away,
In that awful utter Loveliness,
Which can every ill allay;
And she crept with clothes and bosom rent,
For the Mercy to refine,
But there was no place for penitent
On the chill snow-line.
Where it soar'd above the cloud,
In the shadow of her human shame
That enwrapt her as a shroud;
For she hoped to find a purer dress,
And to put her rags away,
In that awful utter Loveliness,
Which can every ill allay;
And she crept with clothes and bosom rent,
For the Mercy to refine,
But there was no place for penitent
On the chill snow-line.
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For the Pharisee there his altar set,
Where the victims hourly writhe,
With the bloody laws that none forget,
And demand the utmost tithe;
So they bade her bear a greater gift,
And approach with cleaner brow,
They despised the face she dared not lift,
And the simple broken vow;
While they praised the idols they had made,
And from silver drank their wine,
While they thrust her back in threatening shade
From the grim snow-line.
Where the victims hourly writhe,
With the bloody laws that none forget,
And demand the utmost tithe;
So they bade her bear a greater gift,
And approach with cleaner brow,
They despised the face she dared not lift,
And the simple broken vow;
While they praised the idols they had made,
And from silver drank their wine,
While they thrust her back in threatening shade
From the grim snow-line.
And the Prude shot colder darts of scorn,
For she played no sister's part,
As she saw the garment foul'd and torn,
Not the crush'd and aching heart;
And they stood between her God and her,
With their iron forms and chains,
As if Christ forsook frail souls that err,
And forgives not women's stains;
And for these no sanctuary lends rest,
Though to death itself they pine,
And there is no bar like the frozen breast.
With its hard snow-line.
For she played no sister's part,
As she saw the garment foul'd and torn,
Not the crush'd and aching heart;
And they stood between her God and her,
With their iron forms and chains,
As if Christ forsook frail souls that err,
And forgives not women's stains;
And for these no sanctuary lends rest,
Though to death itself they pine,
And there is no bar like the frozen breast.
With its hard snow-line.
| Women must weep | |