To a Lady, LXVIII

I saw it was only our planet’s shade, That men call night, and are sore afraid; And ever, ’tis so, with the mortal breast, With the gloom of its own dark soul distress’d; He feareth a shadow, that only can be A speck in the sunshine of happiness free; For man, like his planet, must ever be going Half dark, and half light, on his wonderful way, While ever his God, like the sunlight, is throwing His merciful, glorious, unquenchable ray.