He had dreamed
His dreams;
There was rest
In the wilderness:
Taught by the breeze,
And the mountain,
To bathe in that
Deep, and mighty silence,
That spreads itself
Beyond the noise of man:
The details of
Banquet and blood:
Of an encounter
Beneath the gloom,
And a confluence, swift,
With the executioner;
Amid the flickering
Of the lights above,
Strike us still
With a shudder,
That lets the peace
Of lonely places,
Sink with benediction
On their souls:
For you know;
Things seen
Within narrow walls
Assume a dreadful bulk
Which we can never see
Until it finds us out.
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