_For Peter Pan_
Spring came carolling through the land,
Roses and laughter on every hand;
But I was gazing with steadfast eye
Where Christ was nailed on high.
Hawthorn blossoms were white and gay,
Promise of fruit in the laden spray--
Only the tree of the Cross bare naught
Save the ruin that death had wrought!
Spring passed on, and a breath of bloom
Swept through the casement, filled the room.
I cried in a sudden agony:
“Lord Jesus, set me free!
“See, I am young, and the blood is hot,
Longing for what I compass not--
Love, and sunshine, and fond delight
In beauty warm and white.
“Lord, Thy Cross is a heavy load,
Thorny and steep the upward road--
Lord, from the woods astir I hear
Laughter and joyous cheer.
“Far be it from me, Lord, to scorn
The bitter anguish that Thou hast borne:
But redder his mouth in its youthful pride
Than the spear-wound in Thy side!
“Ah, see how his hair like soft-spun gold
Falls curling over his raiment’s fold,
And his laughing eyes look out with glee
The great wide world to see!
“I thrill at his music silvery sweet,
And I long to follow his dancing feet:
For lo! where they fall the flowers are born--
And hearts no more forlorn!
“My soul goes out to him since the hour
He passed me by in his winsome power,
And my blood is stirred by his witchery--
Prince Jesus, set me free!”
Bowed to my prayer the wounded Head,
Died in the west the sunset red--
And a slow, slow drop of blood ran down
From under the thorny crown.
Strange, in the years that have gone, the Cross
Had grown so dear to me that its loss
Went to my heart with a thrill of pain--
I had half turned back again!
O sweet Lord Spring, I am free at last
To follow wherever thy feet have passed,
Over the dales and over the rills
To the gladsome Grecian hills!