If so there were a spirit, poised in peace
Above all wind-gusts in the heavens high,
And he might mark us mortals laugh or cry,
According as the glooméd clouds increase
Or suns beguile them into golden fleece,
Methinks he would be like to smile to sigh
(So placid he, so far within the sky,
And knowing God's great love can never cease),
That we the puny yet the prideful race
Must change as skies change; be like babes that fret
Whenso their yearning mother moves her breast
To ease her mothering, or turns her face
Aside a moment, reaching out to get
Some wrapping soft to lull their limbs to rest.