Innocence and Virtue

A pure, white babe is gentle Innocence,
     Strong in the tender reverence of the strong
In her own beautiful weakness her defence
     That fails against the serpent wiles of wrong;
In highest heaven she is Omnipotence;
     On earth, the frailest of the mortal throng,
Brave Honor guards her with his bared right arm,
     And worship bends before her cradle-bed;
Love loves her with the love that mothers charm
Their babes with, folding them from fear of harm,
     Any rains quick kisses on her sunny head;
But eager passion, like a wily beast
     Lurks near, intent on her soft limbs to feast,
At the first trip of her infantile tread.

Virtue is strength of Manhood, the reward
     Of a tried nature, by stern agonism
Conquered from Evil, — that angel of the Lord
     Who in the lone night meets us by the way,
With whom our hours anointing is the chasm lo [??]
     Of earnest wrestling till the dawn of day, — 
Not knowing the face of God in our strong foe
Till, halt though it may be, henceforth we go
     Bearing the blessing which but so we may.
     Not now soft Innocence, who shrinks to feel
Love’s ruder kiss, or autumn’s cooler dews, —
     Invites the aggressor; Virtue’s manly thews, 
     Firm and elastic as Damascus steel,
     Put power in every limb to make the tempter real!