514
THE PHILOSOPHICAL REVIEW.
[Vol. XXV.
There is one who shall surely requite
All that endure or that err:
She can answer alone:
Ask not of me, but of her.
Liberty, what of the night?—
I feel not the red rains fall,
Hear not the tempest at all,
Nor thunder in heaven any more.
All the distance is white
With the soundless feet of the sun.
Night, with the woes that it wore,
Night is over and done.
May the light soon dawn. May the word of the poet and prophet soon come true. This is my closing greeting to you.
