awe
  Came near to gaze upon his noble form
  And gentle, loving but majestic face,
  And thought some god had deigned to visit men. 
  And thus he sat, still as the rock his seat,
  Seeking to pierce the void from whence man came,
  To look beyond the veil that shuts him in,
  To find a clue to life’s dark labyrinth,
  Seeking to know why man is cast adrift
  Upon the bosom of a troubled sea,
  His boat so frail, his helm and compass lost,
  To sink at last in dull oblivion’s depths;
  When nature seems so perfect and complete,
  Grand as a whole, and perfect all its parts,
  Which from the greatest to the least proclaims
  That Wisdom, Watchfulness, and Power and Love
  Which built the mountains, spread the earth abroad,
  And fixed the bounds that ocean cannot pass;
  Which taught the seasons their accustomed rounds,
  Lest seed-time and the happy harvests fail;
  Which guides the stars in their celestial course,
  And guides the pigeon’s swift unerring flight
  O’er mountain, sea and plain and desert waste,
  Straight as an arrow to her distant home;
  Teaching the ant for winter to prepare;
  Clothing the lily in its princely pride;
  Watching the tiny sparrow when it falls;
  Nothing too great for His almighty arm;
  Nothing too small for His all-seeing eye;
  Nothing too mean for His paternal care.

  And thus he mused, seeking to find a light
  To guide men on their dark and weary way,
  And through the valley and the shades of death,
  Until the glories of the setting sun
  Called him to vespers and his evening meal.

  Then roused from revery, ablutions made,
  Eight times he bowed, just as the setting sun,
  A fiery red, sunk slowly out of sight
  Beyond the western plains, gilded and tinged,
  Misty and vast, beneath a brilliant sky,
  Shaded from brightest gold to softest rose. 
  Then, after supper, back and forth he paced
  Upon the narrow rock before his cave,
  Seeking to ease his numbed and stiffened limbs;
  While evening’s sombre shadows slowly crept
  From plain to hill and highest mountain-top,
  And solemn silence settled on the world,
  Save for the night-jar’s cry and owl’s complaint;
  While many lights from out the city gleam,
  And thickening stars spangle the azure vault,
  Until the moon, with soft and silvery light,
  Half veils and half reveals the sleeping world. 
  And then he slept—­for weary souls must sleep,
  As well as bodies worn with daily toil;
  And as he lay stretched on his hard, cold bed,
  His youthful blood again bounds freely on,
  Repairing wastes the weary day had made. 
  And then he dreamed.  Sometimes he dreamed of home,
  Of young Rahula, reaching out his arms,
  Of sweet Yasodhara with loving words
  Cheering him on, as love alone can cheer.