One day she led me to that lost land’s gate
       And bade me enter; but I answered “No! 
     I will pass on with my bold comrade, Fate;
       I have no tears to waste on thee—­no time;
       My strength I hoard for heights I hope to climb: 
     No friend art thou for souls that would be great.”

     [Illustration:  “...THE STRIFE THAT IS WEARYING ME”]

     LET ME LEAN HARD.

     Let me lean hard upon the Eternal Breast: 
     In all earth’s devious ways I sought for rest
     And found it not.  I will be strong, said I,
     And lean upon myself.  I will not cry
     And importune all heaven with my complaint. 
     But now my strength fails, and I fall, I faint: 
               Let me lean hard.

     Let me lean hard upon the unfailing Arm. 
     I said I will walk on, I fear no harm,
     The spark divine within my soul will show
     The upward pathway where my feet should go. 
     But now the heights to which I most aspire
     Are lost in clouds.  I stumble and I tire: 
               Let me lean hard.

     Let me lean harder yet.  That swerveless force
     Which speeds the solar systems on their course
     Can take, unfelt, the burden of my woe,
     Which bears me to the dust and hurts me so. 
     I thought my strength enough for any fate,
     But lo!  I sink beneath my sorrow’s weight: 
               Let me lean hard.

     PENALTY.

     Because of the fullness of what I had
       All that I have seems void and vain. 
     If I had not been happy I were not sad;
       Though my salt is savorless, why complain?

     From the ripe perfection of what was mine,
       All that is mine seems worse than naught;
     Yet I know as I sit in the dark and pine,
       No cup could be drained which had not been fraught.

     From the throb and thrill of a day that was,
       The day that now is seems dull with gloom;
     Yet I bear its dullness and darkness because
       ’Tis but the reaction of glow and bloom.

     From the royal feast which of old was spread
       I am starved on the diet which now is mine;
     Yet I could not turn hungry from water and bread,
       If I had not been sated on fruit and wine.

     SUNSET.

     I saw the day lean o’er the world’s sharp edge
       And peer into night’s chasm, dark and damp;
       High in his hand he held a blazing lamp,
     Then dropped it and plunged headlong down the ledge.

     With lurid splendor that swift paled to gray,
       I saw the dim skies suddenly flush bright. 
       ’Twas but the expiring glory of the light
     Flung from the hand of the adventurous day.

     [Illustration:]

     THE WHEEL OF THE BREAST.