Your lights may flare, your cables clang and rush,
But in the sanctuary of my love’s arms
Your blinding tumult dies into a hush.
My doors are surged about with your unrest;
Your plangent cares assail my realm of peace;
But when I come unto her quiet breast
How suddenly your jar and clamor cease!
Then even remembrance of your strifes and pains
Diminishes to a ghost of sorrows gone,
Remoter than a dream of last year’s rains