And I, who near him stood,
Said: When the crop comes, then
There will be sobbing and sighing,
Weeping and wailing and crying,
Flame, and ashes, and woe.
II
It was an autumn day
When next I went that way.
And what, think you, did I see,
What was it that I heard,
What music was in the air?
The song of a sweet-voiced bird?
Nay—but the songs of many,
Thrilled through with praise and prayer.
Of all those voices not any
Were sad of memory;
But a sea of sunlight flowed,
A golden harvest glowed,
And I said: Thou only art wise,
God of the earth and skies!
And I praise Thee, again and again,
For the Sower whose name is Pain.
XXXI—"WHEN THE LAST DOUBT IS DOUBTED"
When the last doubt is doubted,
The last black shadow flown;
When the last foe is routed;
When the night is over and gone—
Then, Love, O then! there will be rest and peace:
Sweet peace and rest that never thou hast known.
