Dearth of God, of Love a dearth,
Rolls my thought, a cloudy Earth,
Through the sullen noon that fears,
Yet expects the morning-spears.
Ere they glisten, ere they threat,
All my heart lies cold and wet,
Prisoned fog between the hills,
Cheerless pulse of midnight rills.
'Tis the darkness that has crept
Where the purple life is kept;
All the veins to thought supply
Murk from out the jealous sky.
Blood that makes the face a dawn,
Mother's breast to life, is gone:
Strikes my waste no hoof that's bright
Into sparkles of delight.
Heavy freight of care and pain,
Want of friends, and God's disdain,
Loveless home, and meagre fate
In the midnight well may wait.
Well may such an Earth forlorn
Shudder on the brink of morn;
But the great breath will not stay,
Strands me on the reefs of day.
IV.
Bellying Earth no anchor throws
Stouter than the breath that blows,
Night and Sorrow cling in vain,
It must toss in day again.
Hospital and battle-field,
Myriad spots where fate is sealed,
Brinks that crumble, sins that urge,
Plunge again into that surge.
How the purple breakers throw
Round me their insatiate glow,
Sweep my deck of hideous freight,
Pour through fastening and grate!