Concrete obstructions which infest the air!
—That earth's alive, and gentle or ungentle
Motions within her, signify but growth:
The ground swells greenest o'er the labouring moles.
Howe'er the uneasy world is vexed and wroth,
Young children, lifted high on parent souls,
Look round them with a smile upon the mouth,
And take for music every bell that tolls.
Who said we should be better if like these?
And we . . . despond we for the future, though
Posterity is smiling at our knees,
Convicting us of folly? Let us go—
We will trust God. The blank interstices
Men take for ruins, He will build into
With pillared marbles rare, or knit across
With generous arches, till the fane's complete.
This world has no perdition, if some loss.
XXVI.
The self same cherub faces which emboss
The rail, lean inward to the mercy-seat.
