II.

Now I had suffered in my life, as they Must suffer, and by slow years younger grow, From whom the false fool-self must drop away, Compact of greed and fear, which, gathered slow,

Darkens the angel-self that, evermore, Where no vain phantom in or out shall go, Moveless beholds the Father — stands before The throne of revelation, waiting there,

With wings low-drooping on the sapphire-floor, Until it find the Father's ideal fair, And be itself at last: not one small thorn Shall needless any pilgrim's garments tear;

And but to say I had suffered I would scorn Save for the marvellous thing that next befell: Sudden I grew aware I was new-born; All pain had vanished in the absorbent swell

Of some exalting peace that was my own; As the moon dwelt in heaven did calmness dwell At home in me, essential. The earth's moan Lay all behind. Had I then lost my part

In human griefs, dear part with them that groan? “‘ Tis weariness!” I said; but with a start That set it trembling and yet brake it not, I found the peace was love. Oh, my rich heart!

For, every time I spied a glimmering spot Of window pane, “There, in that silent room,” Thought I, “mayhap sleeps human heart whose lot Is therefore dear to mine!” I cared for whom

I saw not, had not seen, and might not see! After the love crept prone its shadow-gloom, But instant a mightier love arose in me, As in an ocean a single wave will swell,

And heaved the shadow to the centre: we Had called it prayer, before on sleep I fell. It sank, and left my sea in holy calm: I gave each man to God, and all was well.

And in my heart stirred soft a sleeping psalm.