NIGHT and night's menace: Death hath forged a dart

Of every moment's pause and stealthy pass:

Blind Terror reigns: darkly, as in a glass,

Man's wondering Soul beholds his fearful Heart,

And questions, and is shaken: and, apart.

Light Chance, the harlot-goddess, holding Mass,

Scatters her favours broadcast on the grass

As might a drunkard spill his wares in mart!

Time and sweet Order have forsaken men.

So near Eternal seems the Night's foul sway:

We ask of Life: "Has Chaos come again.

With Ruin, and Confusion, and Decay? "

Yet slowly, surely darkness dies: and then.

Out of the deep night's menace, dawns the Day!