THE LITTLE NOON.

MY life that goes from dark to dark,
    From leaping light to lowering light,
Must have its little noonday spark
     Of heat and flame before the night.

My little noon!  How strong it seems,

     How dazzling fair and deep its tide,
And yet a million million  beams
     Of day have burned before and died.

Long, long ago—a thousand years—
     Was Fear all white and Rage all red?

Did Love meet Love with shining tears
     That eased the stress of words unsaid?

A thousand years ago did Hope
     Fly outward with tumultuous breast?
Youth wake at night to sing?  Age grope

     Through gathering darkness to his rest? [Page 104]

Back in the ages past was sweet
     As sweet as now?  Did bitterness
Flavor the very drink and meat?
     Did Rapture wear her April dress?

Did strong men give their hands to men,
     Their hearts to women?  Did the wife
Joy in her budding secret then?
     Did children throng the doors of life?

Ah, these had all their little noons,

     Yet cradled in the earth they lie,
And still beside them Ocean croons
     Her immemorial lullaby. [Page 105]