240 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE
Fast by the holy font wouldst thou appear ; Up the long aisle I saw thee as a dove ; In the grand organ I thy voice could hear, Through painted windows saw thee shining clear ; Thou wast all love.
��In the dark night full oft — I scarce knew how —
Thou cam'st in dreams, and, all unheard of men, Named me thy child ; thy bright wings fanned my brow ; Thou com'st at last no more — a Ruler now — A Father then.
Wast thou not wont each year, on first of May,
To dress my flower plat, where the ice first thaws, And drench my vines ? Now, since thou'rt fled away, Love does the work no more, but clouds of gray. And natural laws.
Then I knew nought ; the sky, the grove, the stream,
Were peopled all by phantasms ; then I saw. But sought no cause ; things were but what they seem. Yet few unlovely. Fancy's wayward dream Explained each law.
No longer wilt thou smile nor stoop to bless, But from afar each day dost set my task ; Each day thou growest greater, and I less ; Thou dost command, and if I acquiesce Thou dost not ask.
Yet still I feel thee in the freshening breeze.
Still hear thee in each wave that sweeps the shore ; Still in thy works mine eye thy finger sees ; But now thou art the Master of all these — Father no more.
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