THE HIGHER KNIGHTHOOD

A time there was, when for thy beauty's prize —

Hadst thou but deemed my love that prize deserved —

What hope, what faith my daring heart had nerved

For proud achievement and for high emprize!

No Knight, that owned the spell of Beauty's eyes

And wore her sleeve upon his helm, had served

His vows with faith like mine; I ne'er had swerved

One jot from mine for all beneath the skies.

That time is dead, alas! and yet this heart

Is thine, still thine, with Love's high chivalry

And Faith that cannot die; but now its part

Must be a higher knighthood,— patiently

To brook life's ills, and, pierced with many a dart,

By sacrifice of self to merit thee.