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, Things common to the course of day, Awed thee with meanings unfulfill'd ; And all through girlhood, something still'd Thy senses like the birth of light, When thou hast trimmed thy lamp at night O solemn shadow of the end In that wise spirit long contain'd! 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 Of day and night which never brought Wouldst lift through cloud-waste unexplor'd Well heeding, haply would be moved 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, |