THE LAST BETRAYAL.

AND I shall lie alone at last,

Clear of the stream that ran so fast,

And feel the flower roots in my hair,

And in my hands the roots of trees;

Myself wrapt in the ungrudging peace

That leaves no pain uncovered anywhere.

What — this hope left? this way not barred?

This last best treasure without guard?

This heaven free — no prayers to pay?

Fool — are the Rulers of men asleep?

Thou knowest what tears They bade thee weep,

But, when peace comes,‘ tis thou wilt sleep, not They.