Last Lines of Katharine Lee Bates A seed of seraphim. A task or two, and then I'll follow thee. A weary heart where even pain seemed done. And stain it not. And the world turned sweet. Art thou the courage, Dear? As if a voice were uttered out of flame! At last I'll earn my quittance and away. Behold, we count them happy who endure. Bindeth to God. But I shall follow in them, homeward led. But prayer is there and fellowship of hope. Celestial face. Demands his own of us. For no less offering than pulse and breath? For sorrow I must bear. Forecasts of their fading. Her agony accomplished, her consecration won. In aching dreams, and still you cannot come. Infinitude. Is in the dancing of an April leaf. Light answering to light. May share my forest-hall. More lightly for your loving disbelief. My way to you whom I so long have wept. Of all that are. Of childhood, smiling through the mist on me. Of dark Gethsemane. Of winds and leaves and birds. Only love by the heartful. Only white clover blossoms on your grave. Poised like a bird in glad, impatient grace. Revivifying joy. Shriven to pure and sweet? Spirit outsoars space. Still remember what we miss. The art of love. The garden gate. The splendor bides within. To the infinite welcome of Godhome. We, when this old earth burns, would love to see it. Were I ungrieved by least rebuff of thine. When the old wound starts a-throbbing and starlight brings no rest. Where does my darling bloom? Whither the fearless footsteps go. Whose bell-ringer is Joy. Yet sorrow shall be beauty in the magic of the morn. Your pitying face holy with motherhood.