THERE is a light in darkness which the soul
Can seldom know, until the sense have crept
From height to height across the shadowless peaks
Which sentinel thy valley; there are deeps
In thy green hollows, where still thought could lie
Through summer noons unending, glad with dreams;
There too are twilights, sudden-black with storm,
When thunder speaks from the unapproachable hills,
And earth shakes at the arrows of his light.
Then have I heard a cithern’s tinkling sound,
And hollow bursts of laughter from the hall,
While awful thunder shook the world again.
Then have I seen pale clouds retreat before
The glory of God’s coming, and soft night
Die down in splendor on the voiceless Horn;
And while keen players bent above their board,
Have watched the gold of distant stars appear
Circling in music over yon white brows.