Calm

Hast thou been down into the deep of thought

Until the things of time and sense are naught;

Hast sunk—sunk—in that tideless under-deep

Fathoms below the little reach of sleep?

Hast visited the depth where he must go

That would the secrecies of being know?

Hast been a guest where, lost to smiles and tears,

The quiet eye looks on beyond the years?

Hast thou been down into the deep of thought

Beloved of prophets, where their work is wrought?

Then doubt is whelmed in hope, and care in calm,

The tumult melts in music of a psalm.