THE shadow of your threshold is so full

Of meaning, that the stranger knows what home

Is yours, if peace dwell here, or strife, or restless

Unsatisfied ambition. As the tree's

Deep shadow meaneth rest and comfort, or

Is poison, sleep eternal, such the house

That is a home's sweet shadow or a dark

Abode of sin, of lurking lie and danger.

The shadow of your life, that is so small

In bright midday and summer's burning sun,

Begins to lengthen when your evening comes,

And shows the beauty of the tree in outline,

Its graceful forms, its harmony and power;

And never did its beauty strike before,

As now, when lost in thought, you contemplate

The shadow on the lawn. The golden rays

That flood it, make it higher, nobler, and

Its shadow ever greater, till the night

Calls forth the moon, to make it deep and weird

As if unspoken pain had darkened it,

As if the silvery paleness of the moon

Sharpened its features into hardness almost.

Behold the shadow of thy life! Look well if

It be a threshold that reveals the strong

Unbending will, the height of all your aims,

Your passions' darkness, and the harmony

Of all the branches that were put into

Your care! Look at the shadow when your day

Is done, and winter's moon will draw its line

In naked truth, without the flattering leaves

Upon your windingsheet's unruffled snow.