God's finger touched him, and he slept.

I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope thro' darkness up to God, I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.

We are ancients of the earth, And in the morning of the times.

And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after.

Gone - flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.

This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse.