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THE BOOK OF THE HOMELESS
IN SLEEP
I dreamt (no "dream" awake—a dream indeed)
A wrathful man was talking in the Park:
"Where are the Higher Powers who know our need,
Yet leave us in the dark?
"There are no Higher Powers; there is no heart
In God, no love"—his oratory here,
Taking the paupers' and the cripples' part,
Was broken by a tear.
And next it seemed that One who did invent
Compassion, who alone created pity,
Walked, as though called, and hastened as He went
Out from the muttering city;
Threaded the little crowd, trod the brown grass.
Bent o'er the speaker close, saw the tear rise.
And saw Himself, as one looks in a glass,
In those impassioned eyes.
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