"Since he made us humble pioneers Of himself in consciousness of Life's tears, It needs no mighty prophecy To tell that what he could mindlessly show His creatures, he himself will know.
"By some still close-cowled mystery We have reached feeling faster than he, But he will overtake us anon, If the world goes on."MIDNIGHT ON THE GREAT WESTERN
In the third-class seat sat the journeying boy, And the roof-lamp's oily flame Played down on his listless form and face, Bewrapt past knowing to what he was going, Or whence he came.
In the band of his hat the journeying boy Had a ticket stuck; and a string Around his neck bore the key of his box, That twinkled gleams of the lamp's sad beams Like a living thing.
What past can be yours, O journeying boy Towards a world unknown, Who calmly, as if incurious quite On all at stake, can undertake This plunge alone?
Knows your soul a sphere, O journeying boy, Our rude realms far above, Whence with spacious vision you mark and mete This region of sin that you find you in, But are not of?
HONEYMOON TIME AT AN INN
At the shiver of morning, a little before the false dawn, The moon was at the window-square, Deedily brooding in deformed decay -The curve hewn off her cheek as by an adze;At the shiver of morning a little before the false dawn So the moon looked in there.
Her speechless eyeing reached across the chamber, Where lay two souls opprest, One a white lady sighing, "Why am I sad!"To him who sighed back, "Sad, my Love, am I!"And speechlessly the old moon conned the chamber, And these two reft of rest.
While their large-pupilled vision swept the scene there, Nought seeming imminent, Something fell sheer, and crashed, and from the floor Lay glittering at the pair with a shattered gaze, While their large-pupilled vision swept the scene there, And the many-eyed thing outleant.
With a start they saw that it was an old-time pier-glass Which had stood on the mantel near, Its silvering blemished,--yes, as if worn away By the eyes of the countless dead who had smirked at it Ere these two ever knew that old-time pier-glass And its vague and vacant leer.