" HE turned to her . " All eyes beside, —
All other eyes of righteous men, —
Avoided hers with virtuous pride,
Nor could she meet their gaze again.

Nor could she deem their coldness wrong;
That virtue of the Pharisee,
Only in its negations strong,
Ceasing to freeze might cease to be.

And human virtues can but be
As tender flowers a touch may kill,
Scorched if winds breathe too fervently,
Nipped if they chance to blow too chill.

But His were of another sphere
That never stain nor change could know,
No earth born flowers, however fair,
But the pure light which made them grow;

No ice pure only till it melt,
But streams most fresh in freest flow;
The living love, whose pureness dwelt
Not in its coldness but its glow.