 | Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge |  |
155
[IV
How long the impassive feet of Time have trod]
How long the impassive feet of Time have trodThe myriads and their monuments to dust!
How long the frailest, loveliest leaves have trust!
How long life urges in the reeking sod!
The flower is witless of a master's rod,
The sunlight warms the unjust with the just,
The he-bird, joyous in his vernal lust,
Carols in native ignorance of God.
And, when the travesty of God's control
And human reason leave us at the last
Naked before the all-receptive Soul,
Incurious of the ends of life and death,
Numb with the monstrous effort of our past,
We pray the bird for joy, the flower for faith.
| Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge | |