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In Memoriam A.H.H.

         
            CXIV.
             
      Who loves not Knowledge? Who shall rail
          Against her beauty? May she mix
          With men and prosper! Who shall fix
      Her pillars? Let her work prevail.

      But on her forehead sits a fire:
          She sets her forward countenance
          And leaps into the future chance,
      Submitting all things to desire.

      Half-grown as yet, a child, and vain–
          She cannot fight the fear of death.
          What is she, cut from love and faith,
      But some wild Pallas from the brain

      Of Demons? fiery-hot to burst
          All barriers in her onward race
          For power. Let her know her place;
      She is the second, not the first.

      A higher hand must make her mild,
          If all be not in vain; and guide
          Her footsteps, moving side by side
      With wisdom, like the younger child:

      For she is earthly of the mind,
          But Wisdom heavenly of the soul.
          O, friend, who camest to thy goal
      So early, leaving me behind,

      I would the great world grew like thee,
          Who grewest not alone in power
          And knowledge, but by year and hour
      In reverence and in charity.
       


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