“not ye who have stoned, not ye who have smitten us,” cry
  The sad, great souls, as they go out hence into dark,—
  “Not ye we accuse, though for you was our passion borne;
And ye we reproach not, who silently passed us by.
  We forgive blind eyes and the ears that would not hark,
  The careless and causeless hate and the shallow scorn.
“But ye...