THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD(25)

    THE NEW HATH COME AND NOW THE OLD RETIRES： And so the past becomes a mountain-cell, Where lone, apart, old hermit-memories dwell In consecrated calm, forgotten yet Of the keen heart that hastens to forget Old longings in fulfilling new desires.

    And now the Soul stands in a vague, intense Expectancy and anguish of suspense, On the dim chamber-threshold . . . lo！ he sees Like a strange, fated bride as yet unknown, His timid future shrinking there alone, Beneath her marriage-veil of mysteries.