As of a day to which all days Ah! knew'st thou of the end, when first That holier sacrament, when He, The bitter cup about to quaff, Should break the bread and eat thereof ?— Or came not yet the knowledge, even His feet passed through thy door to press Or still was God's high secret kept? Nay, but I think the whisper crept Like growth through childhood. Work and play, O solemn shadow of the end O awful end! and those unsaid Mind'st thou not (when the twilight gone Left darkness in the house of John) Between the naked window-bars That spacious vigil of the stars? For thou, a watcher even as they, Wouldst rise from where throughout the day Wouldst lift through cloud-waste unexplor'd Well heeding, haply would be moved To ask thy blessing in His name; And that one thought in both, the same Yet, Surely I come quickly,'-so He said, from life and death gone home. But oh what human tongue can speak That day when death was sent to break From the tir'd spirit, like a veil, Its covenant with Gabriel Endured at length unto the end? And His right hand embracing thee?— Lo! He was thine, and this is He! Soul, is it Faith, or Love, or Hope, To listen,-thou whom the stars clothe, |