Passion-Flowers (Howe)/Brotherhood

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BROTHERHOOD.
I'll call thee Brother of my soul,And dream the mother-planet mildThat shone upon thy manhood's dawn,Upon thy cheerless childhood smiled.
As oft as thou dost speak of herWith 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.
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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.
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