Thy Brother’s Blood

I have no Brother,—they who meet me now

Offer a hand with their own wills 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 thy tongue it cannot be denied;

I hear not with my 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.

Source: Poets of the English Language (Viking Press, 1950)