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Perplexity that gathers still
Veil over veil, fold upon fold!
Like mists of rain about a lonely hill
Round me that cloud contracts or is unrolled.
Come often Intimations, as it were,
He still were somewhere dwelling on the earth;
Some look that of his beauty hath a share,
Some laugh that hath a sound of his delicious mirth!
ii.
I know thou art not lost;—I know
Christ keeps thee in a safer place,
And I at heart would have it so.
I murmur not. O soul above,
"Tis not my voice thou hearest groan;
'Tis sin that counterfeits my love,
I but for weakness moan.
But no, thou hast a finer ear,
And thou, I trust—'tis more than I dare say,
Discern'st the joyful spirit singing clear
Even in this miserable house of clay!
H
