As clear as calm experience comes at last,
To weary wayfarer from some far land,
So dawns the thought whose setting long seemed past,
Like love that smiling takes us by the hand,
When we imagine love is lost or dead,—
We give no start and utter no surprise,
But where the soft winds blow, are gently led,—
For love is precious joy to weary eyes:—
Sometimes Experience comes as we grow cold,
When suddenly a lightning flash may start
Into terrific life, grim sin and old:—
Colossal then He ever sits apart,
A potent prince, whose fearful Gorgon strength
Were there no love, would slay the world at length.