| |
| I, WHO have lost the stars, the sod, | |
| For chilling pave and cheerless light, | |
| Have made my meeting-place with God | |
| A new and nether Night— | |
| |
| Have found a fane where thunder fills | 5 |
| Loud caverns, tremulous;—and these | |
| Atone me for my reverend hills | |
| And moonlit silences. | |
| |
| A figment in the crowded dark, | |
| Where men sit muted by the roar, | 10 |
| I ride upon the whirring Spark | |
| Beneath the city’s floor. | |
| |
| In this dim firmament, the stars | |
| Whirl by in blazing files and tiers; | |
| Kin meteors graze our flying bars, | 15 |
| Amid the spinning spheres. | |
| |
| Speed! speed! until the quivering rails | |
| Flash silver where the head-light gleams, | |
| As when on lake the Moon impales | |
| The waves upon its beams. | 20 |
| |
| Life throbs about me, yet I stand | |
| Outgazing on majestic Power; | |
| Death rides with me, on either hand, | |
| In my communion hour. | |
| |
| You that ’neath country skies can pray, | 25 |
| Scoff not at me—the city clod;— | |
| My only respite of the Day | |
| Is this wild ride—with God. | |
| |
