The dark day dies! Be still my heart, nor sorrowFor God’s aloofness or for man’s dismay!Haply to usward sets some radiant morrowBehind the dark To-day!
Haply doth shine, beyond these eyes’ discerning,Serenely steadfast thro’ estranging fears,The patient star of our divinest yearningAbove the stormy years.
The false, the true, the shadow and the real,That mock our souls with finite “Yea” and “Nay” —Haply from these shall rise our White IdealAnd bide with us alway.
Sources, publication & text notesReference details
Canonical recordPOEM-001986
Copy-textPitt — The Horses of the Hills and Other Verses (1911); selected digital copy-text retained exactly; first-edition scan controls manifestation and meaningful layout under D-180/D-208
While The Billy BoilsSearch