A CROWN OF THORNS

There was a crown of thorns upon the head

Of Love, when he across my threshold came.

I knew the sign and did not ask his name,

But took him to my heart, although he said,

‘ The soul's dumb agonies, the tears unshed

That sear the heart, th’ injustice and the blame

Of the harsh world,— God wills that I should claim

Through these immortal Life when Hope is dead.’

I took him to my heart and clasped him close.

E'en though his thorns did make my bosom bleed.

Then from the very core of pain arose

A joy that seemed to be the utmost need

Of my worn soul! Love whispered,‘ This the meed

Of hearts that keep their faith amidst Love's woes.’