Ye shut your eyes and call it night,
Ye grope and fall in seas of light—
Would ye but understand!
HEAVEN.
Thou bright mirage, that o’er man’s arduous way
Hast hung in the hot sky, with fountains streaming,
Cool marble domes, and palm-fronds waving, gleaming,—
Vision of rest and peace to end the day!
Now he is weariest, alone, astray,
Spent with long labor, led by thy sweet seeming,