Passion-Flowers (Howe)/Brotherhood

BROTHERHOOD.

I'll call thee Brother of my soul,
And dream the mother-planet mild
That shone upon thy manhood's dawn,
Upon thy cheerless childhood smiled.

As oft as thou dost speak of her
With such a fond and duteous love,
'Thus might my son remember me,'
I ask of Him who reigns above.

But out of Chaos half-matured,
In me Life's saddest discords blend;
I am God's orphan and the world's,
Even thou shalt scarcely rest my friend.

And yet thou art so large of heart,
So free of generous sympathy,
That sometimes, by thy passing breath,
A drooping flower revived may be.