 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
Suddenly
The stranger's face grew calm, the wind of wrath
Pass'd from it, leaving it as sweet and bright
As still seas after storm. Upon his heart
He press'd his hand, saying, ‘Forgive me, friend,
How should my curse avail?’ and, lo! I thought,
‘I will not leave him for a little yet—
Perchance my faith (for, ah! my faith is great,
Beholding now the very City's walls)
May lead him from the dolour of his ways.’
The stranger's face grew calm, the wind of wrath
Pass'd from it, leaving it as sweet and bright
As still seas after storm. Upon his heart
He press'd his hand, saying, ‘Forgive me, friend,
How should my curse avail?’ and, lo! I thought,
‘I will not leave him for a little yet—
Perchance my faith (for, ah! my faith is great,
Beholding now the very City's walls)
May lead him from the dolour of his ways.’
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |