Dark Head By The Fireside Brooding, Sad Upon Your Ears Whirlwinds Of The Earth Intruding Sound In Wrath And Tears: Tender-Hearted, In Your Lonely Sorrow I Would Fain Comfort You, And Say That Only Gods Could Feel Such Pain. Only Spirits Know Such Longing For The Far Away; And The Fiery Fancies Thronging Rise Not Out Of Clay. Keep The Secret Sense Celestial Of The Starry Birth; Though About You Call The Bestial Voices Of The Earth. If A Thousand Ages Since Hurled Us From The Throne: Then A Thousand Ages Wins Back Again Our Own. Sad One, Dry Away Your Tears: Sceptred You Shall Rise, Equal Mid The Crystal Spheres With Seraphs Kingly Wise. --February, 1894