THE “STORY OF IDA.”

By John Greenleaf Whittier

Weary of jangling noises never stilled,

The skeptic's sneer, the bigot's hate, the din

Of clashing texts, the webs of creed men spin

Round simple truth, the children grown who build

With gilded cards their new Jerusalem,

Busy, with sacerdotal tailorings

And tinsel gauds, bedizening holy things,

I turn, with glad and grateful heart, from them

To the sweet story of the Florentine

Immortal in her blameless maidenhood,

Beautiful as God's angels and as good;

Feeling that life, even now, may be divine

With love no wrong can ever change to hate,

No sin make less than all-compassionate!