“Earth, what a sorrow lies before thee!
None like it in the shadowy past;
The sharpest throe that ever tore thee,—
Even though the briefest and the last.
I see the fair moon veil her luster,
I see the sackcloth of the sun;
The shrouding of each starry cluster.
The threefold woe of earth begun.
I see the shadow of its sunset;
And wrapt in these the avenger’s form;
I see the Armageddon-onset;
But I shall be above the storm.
There comes the moaning and the sighing,
There comes the hot tear’s heavy fall,
The thousand agonies of dying;
But I shall be beyond them all.”