[Written for the Sentinel.]


What whisper you, stars of the eloquent night,
What whisper you ever?
O listening child, in the language of light
We whisper of wonderful things unseen,
Of blessings that wait, resplendent, serene,
To comrade your heart forever.

But pain is my portion, O stars, and grief—
Wan loneliness ever!
Why gather, O child, the withering leaf
When June at your casement has crimsoned the rose?
In fathoms of light come bury your woes,
In fathoms of light forever.

The ultimate shadow, O stars of the night,
Encumbers me ever!
That phantom, dear child, is fainting in flight;
Your Father is God of the living alone;
All live in the light unto Him, unknown
Of sorrow or shadow forever.

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