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.