I
When dawns some day fairer than other days,
And all the mountain passes are aglow
With its supernal splendor, and the low,
Dim valleys sleeping in the woodland ways
Waken to glorious life at morn’s first rays,—
When happy birds sing, and all winds that blow,
Laden with seeds of blessing come and go,
And earth no secret of her woe betrays,—
Then, O belovèd, when my heart is light
And all is well with me, and pain and care
Have vanished as a dream of last year’s rose
Fades with the passing of a summer night,
My soul in ecstasy of love and prayer
Cries: “God, I thank thee that he knows, he knows!”
II
But on some other day, when skies unroll
Their storm-cloud banners only, and the beat
Of the wild tempest is like hurrying feet
That stay not, halt not, till they reach the goal;
When doubt and dread assail my fainting soul,
And, when I fain God’s mercy would entreat,
Even the prayers my trembling lips repeat
Seem like the clamor of harsh bells that toll—
Then, thinking of thee in some far, dim realm,—
Dim to our senses, glorious to thine,—
Where never once a cruel wind doth blow,
Nor storm, nor stress, come near thee to o’erwhelm,
I lift mine eyes unto the hills divine,
And cry: “Thank God, thank God, he does not know!”