Psychoscience
He, who is far from home, knows when the snow
Gives way before the sunny urge of Spring,
When the first ecstasies of bluebirds go
Through blossomed loops and boughs bee-murmuring,
When brier roses starrily compose
Upon the scented spray—he, homesick, knows.
He, that is far from love, knows when the face
That knew his face is raised to summer stars;
He, like that other, hungers in his place,
And, like that other, grips his prison bars—
And when that upturned face can no more smile,
He knows; and whispers comfort, mile on mile.
He, who feels far from God, knows when the Word
Comes light upon a golden-shadowed hill;
On his dim path the radiance has stirred,
Deep in a dream he shrines his knowledge; still
Keeping his thorny ways, intent he goes,
Knowing the Hidden that infinitely knows!