I know that He exists.
Somewhere — in Silence —
He has hid his rare life
From our gross eyes.
‘Tis an instant’s play.
‘Tis a fond Ambush —
Just to make Bliss
Earn her own surprise!
But — should the play
Prove piercing earnest —
Should the glee — glaze —
In Death’s — stiff — stare —
Would not the fun
Look too expensive!
Would not the jest —
Have crawled too far!
