I rose at night, and visited
       &nbsp The Cave of the Unborn:
And crowding shapes surrounded me
For tidings of the life to be,
Who long had prayed the silent Head
       &nbsp To haste its advent morn.

Their eyes were lit with artless trust,
       &nbsp Hope thrilled their every tone;
"A scene the loveliest, is it not?
A pure delight, a beauty-spot
Where all is gentle, true and just,
       &nbsp And darkness is unknown?"

My heart was anguished for their sake,
       &nbsp I could not frame a word;
And they descried my sunken face,
And seemed to read therein, and trace
The news that pity would not break,
       &nbsp Nor truth leave unaverred.

And as I silently retired
       &nbsp I turned and watched them still,
And they came helter-skelter out,
Driven forward like a rabble rout
Into the world they had so desired
       &nbsp By the all-immanent Will.