A SONG OF GROWTH
IN the heart of a man
Is a thought upfurled,
Reached its full span
It shakes the world,
And to one high thought
Is a whole race wrought.
Not with vain noise
The great work grows,
Nor with foolish voice,
But in repose,—
Not in the rush
But in the hush.
From the cogent lash
Of the cloud-herd wind
The low clouds dash,
Blown headlong, blind;
But beyond, the great blue
Looks moveless through.
O'er the loud world sweep
The scourge and the rod;
But in deep beyond deep
Is the stillness of God;—
At the Fountains of Life
No cry, no strife.