 | Plays and poems |  |
420
[In this deep hush and quiet of my soul]
In this deep hush and quiet of my soul,When life runs low, and all my senses stay
Their daily riot; when my wearied clay
Resigns its functions, and, without control
Of selfish passion, my essential whole
Rises in purity, to make survey
Of those poor deeds that wear my days away;
When in my ear I hear the distant toll
Of bells that murmur of my coming knell,
And all things seem a show and mockery—
Life, and life's actions, noise and vanity;
I ask my mournful heart if it can tell
If all be truth which I protest to thee:
And my heart answers, solemnly, “'T is well!”
| Plays and poems | |