Two Rondels
I.
When, in the mid-sea of the night,
I waken at thy call, O Lord,
The first that troop my bark aboard
Are darksome imps that hate the light,
Whose tongues are arrows, eyes a blight–
Of wraths and cares a pirate horde–
Though on the mid-sea of the night
It was thy call that waked me, Lord.
Then I must to my arms and fight–
Catch up my shield and two-edged sword,
The words of him who is thy word–
Nor cease till they are put to flight;
Then in the mid-sea of the night
I turn and listen for thee, Lord.
II.
There comes no voice from thee, O Lord,
Across the mid-sea of the night!
I lift my voice and cry with might:
If thou keep silent, soon a horde
Of imps again will swarm aboard,
And I shall be in sorry plight
If no voice come from thee, my Lord,
Across the mid-sea of the night.
There comes no voice; I hear no word!
But in my soul dawns something bright:-
There is no sea, no foe to fight!
Thy heart and mine beat one accord:
I need no voice from thee, O Lord,
Across the mid-sea of the night.
