I hold, to every sin,
To every soul that weeps,
My hands with pardon filled
Out of the starry deeps.
There is no sin that lives
When love hath vigil kept;
There is no soul that mourns
When love but once hath wept.
And tho' on many paths
Of earth love lose its way,
Its tears will find me out
And shall not go astray.
[1] Reprinted from "Soeur Beatrice." The translation is reprinted,
by kind permission of Messrs Geo. Allen & Unwin, from my version of
"Sister Beatrice: and Ardiane and Barbe Bleue," published by them.