136
NIGHT.
Who hath not in the silences of night
Been humbled by the mystery that lies
Along the vaulted pathway of the skies?
And in the consciousness that worlds of light
Their steadfast courses keep beyond our sight,
Heard yet again the voice within that cries
To every fettered soul, bidding it rise
With arms outstretched towards the Infinite?
Upon the threshold of these large, unknown,
Unlighted chambers of the night we kneel,
And, emptied of the day, contrite, alone,
The presence of some sentient Power within
The magnitudes of space we dimly feel
To which the finite spirit is akin.
