De Profundis.
Strait, strait and narrow is the vale!
Behind me riseth to the skies
What I have been: in front, but dim,
What I shall be all shrouded lies,
All shrouded by the curtain dark
Of mists which from the river rise.
Above, the clouds hide from mine eyes
The hosts of heaven.
Strait, strait and barren is the vale!
For here no tender primrose blows,
Nor daisy with its simple charm,
Nor from the yews which round me close
Comes song of thrush—but dismal shriek
Of deathbird, scattering as it goes
The stillness deep—and pales my cheek
With awe unspeakable.
Strait, strait and lonely is the vale!
Only from far falls on my ear
The murmur of the world I loved,
But death’s dark torrent roareth near.
Now ’neath my feet the path I tread
Crumbling gives way, and filled with dread
Into the waves below I hear
The fragments falling.
Strait, strait and hopeless is the vale!
Nor can I evermore regain
The days of happiness and health
Which once I knew, days free from pain,
Nor move a foot from where I stand,
And backward eyes of longing strain
A moment—ere I leave the land
And brave those waters.
Yet strait tho’ be the vale and dim,
And though the skies are dark and drear,
And though the mountains everywhere
Rise steep and rugged round me here
To bar me out from life! there lives
One Star which shineth bright and clear
From out the sky and comfort gives
To soothe my sadness.