"Master, say on," self-righteous Simon said, And muttered in his beard, "A sinner, she!"

Marvelling the while that on the drooping head The hand of Jesus rested tenderly.

"Seest thou this woman, Simon?" Scornful eyes Did Simon bend upon the woman's face, The while the breath of love's sweet sacrifice Rose from the broken box and filled the place.

Self-righteousness, the slimy thing that grows Upon a fellow-creature's frailty, That waxes fat on shame of ruined lives, Swelled in the bosom of the Pharisee.

"Into thine house I came at thy request, Weary with travel, and thou gavest not To me the service due the humblest guest, No towel, no water clear and cold was brought

"To wash my feet; but she, whom you despise, Out of the great affection she doth bear Hath made a basin of her woman's eyes, A towel of her woman's wealth of hair.

"Thou gavest me no kiss"--O Simon, shame, Thus coldly and unlovingly to greet The Prince of Peace!--"but ever since I came This woman hath not ceased to kiss my feet.

"He loveth most who hath been most forgiven."

O Simon, hearken, learn the great truth well, No soul on faith's glad wings mounts nearer heaven Than that which hath been prisoned deep in h.e.l.l.

Methinks I hear her say: "Thou who forgivest My many sins, this off'ring, sweet of breath, I pour on Thee, dear Lord, while yet thou liv'st, For love is ever swift to outrun death."

Upon her are the eyes of Jesus turned, With gaze which seems to strengthen and to bless.

Who knows how long the soul of Him hath yearned For some such token of rare tenderness?

The flush of shame flaunts red on Simon's cheeks, About the table idle babblings cease, A deep, full silence, then the Master speaks: "Thy faith hath saved thee, go in peace--in peace."

WHEN THE DUSK COMES DOWN.

Do you know what I will love best of all To do when I'm old? At the close of day When the dusk comes down and the shadows play, And the wind sings loud in the poplars tall, I will love to get into my corner here-- The curtains drawn, and never a one To break the stillness--to sit here alone And dream of these good old times, my dear.

In fancy you'll come and sit by my side-- I can see your face with my eyes close shut, With the pride and the softness clearly cut, The obstinate chin and the forehead wide, The oval cheek and the smile so warm, The dark eyes full of their fun and power, With the tender light for the tender hour, And the flash of fire that was half their charm.

I'll whisper: 'Twas sweet when youth was our own-- The laughter, the nonsense, the freedom from care, The castles we built high up in the air, The secrets told to each other alone!

Not all of laughter; the world went wrong, And the shadows pressed till my heart was sore.

I'll never be glad, I said, any more, Never be happy, or gay, or strong.

O the sweetest thing in the hour of pain Is to have one near us who understands, To touch us gently and hold our hands, Till our strength and courage come back again.

At love's swift pace you hurried to me-- Your tender words they will ring in my ears When I sit and dream after long, long years-- The shine in your eyes through the mists I'll see.

Our lives will be lying so far apart, And time, no doubt, will have given us much Of weary wisdom; put many a touch Of his withering hand on face and heart.

But I know what I will love best of all To do at the end of the busy day, When the dusk comes down and the shadows play, And the wind sings low in the poplars tall.

I will love to get into my corner here, With the curtains drawn, and never a one To break the stillness--to sit here alone And dream of these happy days, my dear, And take my treasures from memory's hold-- The tears, the laughter, the songs that were sung-- O the friends we love when the heart is young Are the friends we love when the heart grows old!

THE GHOSTS OF NIGHT.

When we were children, long ago, And crept to bed at close of day, With backward glance and footstep slow, Though all aweary with our play, Do you remember how the room-- The little room with window deep-- Would fill with shadows and with gloom, And fright us so we could not sleep?

For O! the things we see at night-- The dragons grim, the goblins tall, And, worst of all, the ghosts in white That range themselves along the wall!

We could but cover up our head, And listen to our heart's wild beat-- Such dreadful things about our bed, And no protection save a sheet!

Then slept, and woke quite unafraid.

The sun was shining, and we found Our shadows and our ghosts all laid, Our world a glorious playing-ground.

For O! the things we see at night-- The dragons grim, the goblins tall, And, worst of all, the ghosts in white That range themselves along the wall!

We are but children still, the years Have never taught us to be bold, For mark our trembling and our fears When sometimes, as in days of old, We in the darkness lie awake, And see come stealing to our side A ghostly throng--the grave Mistake, The Failure big, the broken Pride.

For O! the things we see at night-- The dragons grim, the goblins tall, And, worst of all, the ghosts in white That range themselves along the wall!

How close they creep! How big they loom!

The Task which waits, the Cares which creep; A child, affrighted in the gloom, We fain would hide our head and weep.

When, lo! the coward fear is gone-- The golden sunshine fills the air, And G.o.d has sent us with the dawn The strength and will to do and dare.

For O! the things we see at night-- The dragons grim, the goblins tall, And, worst of all, the ghosts in white That range themselves along the wall!

THE LONG AGO.

O life has its seasons joyous and drear, Its summer sun and its winter snow, But the fairest of all, I tell you, dear, Was the sweet old spring of the long ago-- The ever and ever so long ago--

When we walked together among the flowers, When the world with beauty was all aglow.

O the rain and dew! O the shine and showers Of the sweet old spring of the long ago!

The ever and ever so long ago.

A hunger for all of the past delight Is stirred by the winds that softly blow.

Can you spare me a thought from heaven to-night For the sweet old spring of the long ago?-- The ever and ever so long ago.

FORGIVE AND FORGET.

I'll tell you the sweetest thing, dear heart, I'll tell you the sweetest thing-- 'Tis saying to one that we love: "Forgive The careless words and the sting; Forgive and forget, and be friends once more, For the world is an empty place Without the light of your warm, true eyes, And the smile of your tender face."

O the kissing and making up again, And the tender whispering!

I'll tell you the sweetest thing, dear heart, I'll tell you the sweetest thing.

I'll tell you the saddest thing, dear heart, I'll tell you the saddest thing: 'Tis coming to one that we love full well, Some tender message to bring.

And loitering, loitering, by the way-- Held back by a foolish pride-- Till it's all too late to say "Forgive!"