The rowers lift their oars to view Each other in the sea ; The landsmen watch the rocking boats, In a pleasant company; While up the hill go gladlier still Dear friends by two and three. III. The peasant's wife hath looked without For there the peasant drops his spade To clasp his youngest child, Which hath no speech, but its hands can reach And stroke his forehead mild. IV. A poet sate that eventide As silent as its ancient lords In the coffined place of stone; When the bat hath shrunk from the praying monk— And the praying monk is gone. V. Nor wore the dead a stiller face VI. You would not think that brow could e'er Yet seemed it, in this troubled world, When the very star, that shines from far, VII. It lacked all need-the softening light We should conjoin the scathed trunks Of our humanity, That each leafless spray, entwining, may VIII. None gazed within the poet's face- He threw a lonely shadow straight Before the moon and sun, Affronting nature's heaven-dwelling creatures, IX. Because this poet daringly, The nature at his heart, And that quick tune along his veins Had vowed his blood of brotherhood X. He did not vow in fear, or wrath, But, weights and shows of sensual things On his soul's eyelid, the pressure slid, XI. And darkening in the dark, he strove The winds were welcome as they swept : XII. He cried-"O touching, patient Earth, That weepest in thy glee! Whom God created very good, And very mournful, we! Thy voice of moan doth reach His throne, As Abel's rose from thee. XIII. "Poor crystal sky, with stars astray; XIV. "We! and our curse ! Do I partake The dreary, cruel sin? Have I the apple at my lips? The money-lust within? Do I human stand with the wronging hand, To the blasting heart akin? XV. "Thou solemn pathos of all things, And, for your sake, the bondage break, XVI. "Hear me forswear man's sympathies, His changing love-with stars above! XVII. "Hear me forswear his roof by night, His bread and salt by day, His talkings at the lighted hearth, His greetings by the way, His musing looks, his systemed books, All man, for aye and aye. XVIII. "That so my purged, once human heart, May gather strength to pledge and drink While you pardon me, all blessingly, XIX. "And I shall feel your unseen looks XX. "And ever, when I lift my brow No voice of woman or of child PART THE SECOND. SHOWING TO WHOM THE VOW WAS DECLARED. I. THE poet's vow was inly sworn---- He parted to his crowding friends The silver and the gold; They clasping bland his gift,—his hand, In a somewhat slacker hold. ! II. They wended forth, the crowding friends, One loved him true as brothers do, |