Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/30

 Like a child In some strange garden left awhile alone, I pace about the pathways of the world, Plucking light hopes and joys from every stem, With qualms of vague misgiving in my heart That payment at the last will be required, Payment I cannot make, or guilt incurred, And shame to be endured.

Roused by importunate knocks I rose, I turned the key, and let them in, First one, anon another, and at length In troops they came; for how could I, who once Had let in one, nor looked him in the face, Show scruples e'er again? So in they came, A noisy band of revellers,—vain hopes, Wild fancies, fitful joys; and there they sit In my heart's holy place, and through the night Carouse, to leave it when the cold grey dawn Gleams from the East, to tell me that the time For watching and for thought bestowed is gone.

O kind protecting Darkness! as a child Flies back to bury in its mother's lap His shame and his confusion, so to thee, O Mother Night, come I! within the folds Of thy dark robe hide thou me close; for I So long, so heedless, with external things Have played the liar, that whate'er I see, E'en these white glimmering curtains, yon bright stars, Which to the rest rain comfort down, for me