Old friends and old times . st for world with its heartless stare. But out of his heart for the vampire broodHe offered to God a prayer. 73 And while he prayed from-his heart deep wrung, In that awful interim,A voice! and it hissed and pierced and stung— Twas Peter denying him. And straightway out of the solemn night The cock crew unto the morn,While deftly still, now left, now right, Was plaited the cruel thorn. And the faster paused in his silent prayer, Apart by the cold, gray turned and gazed on Peter there In the glare of the judgment hall. Then this ones eyes met the M
Old friends and old times . st for world with its heartless stare. But out of his heart for the vampire broodHe offered to God a prayer. 73 And while he prayed from-his heart deep wrung, In that awful interim,A voice! and it hissed and pierced and stung— Twas Peter denying him. And straightway out of the solemn night The cock crew unto the morn,While deftly still, now left, now right, Was plaited the cruel thorn. And the faster paused in his silent prayer, Apart by the cold, gray turned and gazed on Peter there In the glare of the judgment hall. Then this ones eyes met the Masters own, And tears to his lashes crept;And he went out into the night alone And bitterly, bitterly wept; For he thought of the Masters words again,And his gaze when their eyes had met, But the only boon he could offer thenWere tears, and remorse, and regret. j|c >;: Hj ;!s :jc 5|c O cruel crown ! O cruel cross ! With torture and groan and blood!But the thorn and the piercing nail sting less Than mans ingratitude. 74. The moon hangs low in the cast toniiiht. THE RETURN The moon hangs low in the east tonightWith a star at her nether horn— The wind has ceased, and the dewdrops brightAre hung on the tasselled corn. From the old stone fence, neath the ivy hid, The cricket chirps to the doleful plaint of the katydid Comes out of the maple tree. Tis beautifully dark, the night, Just parted from the day,And the winds of the dusty road show white Neath the winds of the milky way. And out of the woods, from the deep, dark pond,Comes the old frogs clear bassoon. And echoing over the hill beyondS the weird cry of the loon. The orchard trees stand tall and black To hide the once plain viewOf the little house at the orchards back, And the grape-vine trellis, too. 75 And here is a spot I shall liot forget,Tho the old rail fence is gone— Tis here the cedar posts were setThat the old gate swung upon. Twas a time and an hour and a night like this. And the moon in the east hung
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