III.
The stars are glad in gulfy space—
Friendly the dark to them!
From day's deep mine, their hiding-place,
Night wooeth every gem.
A thing for faith 'mid labour's jar,
When up the day is furled,
Shines in the sky a light afar,
Mayhap a home-filled world.
Sometimes upon the inner sky
We catch a doubtful shine:
A mote or star? A flash in the eye
Or jewel of God's mine?
A star to us, all glimmer and glance,
May teem with seraphim:
A fancy to our ignorance
May be a truth to Him.