108
Prayer.
Through the white, glaring sunshine. Hide me, night!
Lest the full glories of the universe
Smite me with blindness, and exulting earth
Under the blue triumphal arch of heaven
Victoriously passing, blast my sense
With her insulting gladness. Once I prayed;
Once when dismay, want, death, pressed me so close,
I faced them in mere madness, and beholding,
From mine appalled soul sent up a shriek
That must have pierced the hollow ear of space,
Startling the angels, holding in suspense
Awhile the eternal harmonies. Vain heart!
Could the mute prayer that on its fiery track
Followed in trembling haste, prevail so far?
Amid the roll of twice ten thousand harps
Struck by white-handed seraphim, the voice
Of that unfathomed sea of human woe
Making perpetual moan about His throne,
And surging to His footstool, dost thou dream
That its weak cry rose audibly?
Did sleep
On her imploring senses lightly rest
Lest the full glories of the universe
Smite me with blindness, and exulting earth
Under the blue triumphal arch of heaven
Victoriously passing, blast my sense
With her insulting gladness. Once I prayed;
Once when dismay, want, death, pressed me so close,
I faced them in mere madness, and beholding,
From mine appalled soul sent up a shriek
That must have pierced the hollow ear of space,
Startling the angels, holding in suspense
Awhile the eternal harmonies. Vain heart!
Could the mute prayer that on its fiery track
Followed in trembling haste, prevail so far?
Amid the roll of twice ten thousand harps
Struck by white-handed seraphim, the voice
Of that unfathomed sea of human woe
Making perpetual moan about His throne,
And surging to His footstool, dost thou dream
That its weak cry rose audibly?
Did sleep
On her imploring senses lightly rest
