At Eventide

Poor and inadequate the shadow-play     Of gain and loss, of waking and of dream,     Against lifes solemn background needs must seem     At this late hour. Yet, not unthankfully,     I call to mind the fountains by the way,     The breath of flowers, the bird-song on the spray,     Dear friends, sweet human loves, the joy of giving     And of receiving, the great boon of living     In grand historic years when Liberty     Had need of word and work, quick sympathies     For all who fail and suffer, songs relief,     Natures uncloying loveliness; and chief,     The kind restraining hand of Providence,     The inward witness, the assuring sense     Of an Eternal Good which overlies     The sorrow of the world, Love which outlives     All sin and wrong, Compassion which forgives     To the uttermost, and Justice whose clear eyes     Through lapse and failure look to the intent,     And judge our frailty by the life we meant