The dark day dies! Be still my heart, nor sorrow
For God’s aloofness or for man’s dismay!
Haply to usward sets some radiant morrow
Behind the dark To-day!
Haply doth shine, beyond these eyes’ discerning,
Serenely steadfast thro’ estranging fears,
The patient star of our divinest yearning
Above 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 Ideal
And bide with us alway.
Marie E. J. Pitt, The Horses of the Hills and Other Verses, Melbourne: Specialty Press, 1911, page 95