Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/56

 Speak not of comfort where no comfort is, Speak not at all: can words make foul things fair? Our life's a cheat, our death a black abyss: Hush and be mute envisaging despair.—

This vehement voice came from the northern aisle Rapid and shrill to its abrupt harsh close; And none gave answer for a certain while, For words must shrink from these most wordless woes; At last the pulpit speaker simply said, With humid eyes and thoughtful drooping head:—

My Brother, my poor Brothers, it is thus; This life itself holds nothing good for us, But it ends soon and nevermore can be; And we knew nothing of it ere our birth, And shall know nothing when consigned to earth: I ponder these thoughts and they comfort me.

How the moon triumphs through the endless nights! How the stars throb and glitter as they wheel Their thick processions of supernal lights Around the blue vault obdurate as steel!