Poem by Jones Very

Thy Brother's Blood

I have no Brother—they who meet me now
Offer a hand with their own will defiled,
And while they wear a smooth unwrinkled brow,
Know not that Truth can never be beguiled;
Go wash the hand that still betrays thy guilt;
Before the spirit's gaze what stain can hide?
Abel's red blood upon the earth is spilt,
And by their tongue it cannot be denied;
I hear not with the ear—the heart doth tell
Its secret deeds to me untold before;
Go, all its hidden plunder quickly sell,
Then shalt thou cleanse thee from thy brother's gore,
Then will I take thy gift—that bloody stain
Shall not be seen upon thy hand again.

1. Day
2. To the Fossil Flower
3. Worship
4. The Robin
5. The Dead

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