Page:Poems Whitney.djvu/185

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facts in verse.
179
What thrilling touches of strange light,
What breaths from some far atmosphere,
World, in thy grand, old pause of Night!

Spirits that watch, do you hot pray
In the still hours, Light come no more,
Shine not upon life's blasted flower—
Let only us see it, who may
See God and earth, the self-same hour!

Doubt, terror, the long agony
Of dread suspense, sore ill to brook!—
Until on many a fearful nook,
The sun sends in his searching eye,
And looks there till he makes men look!

Believe that there are times so rife
With vital blood, as many say,
That moments ere they pass turn gray,
And fruitage on the vine of life.
Ripens and drops in one brief day.