Page:Verses–Blanche·Baughan-1898.pdf/85



YON mute grandeur of the midnight Heaven Hangs like some dread destiny o’erhead. Earth is dumb with awe, the air is stricken Voiceless; light ts over, day is dead. Only do my footsteps break the silence, Trampling peace beneath their restless tread;

Only do my thoughts go whirling, whirling, ’Mid the stillness in tempestuous rush, Like a thousand emulous warriors surging Heavily against this world-wide hush— Heavily! O God! have they not power Twenty human hearts like mine to crush?