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IV.—FACE TO FACE.
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IV.—FACE TO FACE.

Since thus the spirit of love for mine own land
Pervades me, and I let it have its will,
I recognise the brave Christ-saviour still,
And touch with reverence his ringless hand.
Lonely, and face to face with him I stand,
Watching the cross upon the rocky hill—
The heart his priestly followers strive to fill
With their own thought, beyond them doth expand!

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High as the azure dome above them glows
The utter soul of Christ which now I see
For the first time, because one English rose
With sweet red bloom uplifts me more than he—
I reach him, leaving him—the God-King dies,
And lo! the Peasant, with great genius-eyes!