Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/96

 Was it truly a fact or a dream, my Love? I think my brain still reels, And my ears still throbbing seem, my Love, With the rush and the clang of wheels; Of a vast machinery roaring For ever in skyless gloom; Where the poor slaves peace imploring, Found peace alone in the tomb.

Was it hundreds of years ago, my Love, Was it thousands of miles away? Or was it a dream to show, my Love, The rapture of to-day? This day of holy splendour, This Sabbath of rich rest, Wherein to God we render All praise by being blest.

Eight of us promised to meet here And tea together at five: And—who would ever believe it?— We are the first to arrive!