 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
THE SOLACE OF THE SKIES
When fell the first great sorrow of my life,—He dying from whom my mortal frame was drawn,—
Into the night I fled, long ere the dawn,
Succor to bring for her, the stricken wife.
455
And that mysterious mingling of the soul
With the still beauty of the infinite whole;
My heart was melted, and grew strangely wise.
I was a child then, having little lore
Taken from books, or the wide world of men,
But something suddenly through my soul did pour
Beyond all thought, all dream, all hope; since then
Nor Death, nor Life, has been the same to me:
Can grief the spirit kill, once touched by deity?
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |