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PIPPA PASSES.
11

At eve the Son and Mother, gentle pair,
Commune inside our turret: what prevents
My being Luigi? While that mossy lair
Of lizards through the winter-time is stirred
With each to each imparting sweet intents
For this new-year, as brooding bird to bird—
(For I observe of late, the evening walk
Of Luigi and his mother, always ends
Inside our ruined turret, where they talk,
Calmer than lovers, yet more kind than friends)
—Let me be cared about, kept out of harm,
And schemed for, safe in love as with a charm;
Let me be Luigi! If I only knew
What was my mother’s face—my father, too!
Nay, if you come to that, best love of all
Is God’s; then why not have God’s love befall
Myself as, in the palace by the Dome,
Monsignor?—who to-night will bless the home
Of his dead brother; and God bless in turn
That heart which beats, those eyes which mildly burn
With love for all men! I, to-night at least,
Would be that holy and beloved priest.

Now wait!—even I already seem to share
In God’s love: what does New-year’s hymn declare?
What other meaning do these verses bear?

  All service ranks the same with God:
  If now, as formerly he trod
  Paradise, his presence fills
  Our earth, each only as God wills
  Can work—God’s puppets, best and worst,
  Are we; there is no last nor first.