I rose at night and visited

The Cave of the Unborn,

And crowding shapes surrounded me

For tidings of the life to be,

Who long had prayed the silent Head

To speed their advent morn.



Their eyes were lit with artless trust;

Hope thrilled their every tone:

"A place the loveliest, is it not?

A pure delight, a beauty-spot

Where all is gentle, pure and just

And ??violence?? is unknown?"



My heart was anguished for their sake;

I could not frame a word;

But they descried my sunken face

And seemed to read therein, and trace

The news which Pity would not break

Nor Truth leave unaverred.



And as I silently retired

I turned and watched them still:

And they came helter-skelter out,

Driven forward like a rabble rout

Into the world they had so desired,

By the all-immanent Will.