THE HOUSE OF SIN

By Francis Sherman

When Time is done at last, and the last Spring

Fadeth on earth, and thy gaze seeketh mine,

Watch well for one whose face beareth for sign

The legend of a soul's refashioning:

As I shall watch for one whose pale hands bring

The first faint violet, and know them thine

Grown pitiful and come to build Love's shrine

Where the old Aprils wait, unfaltering.

Then the great floods between us will retire,

And the long path I follow down will grow

To be the path thy climbing feet desire;

Until we meet at last, made glad, and know

The cleansing hands that made my soul as snow

Have kept alive in thine the ancient fire.