Calm soul, unkindled by the sight...

Calm soul, unkindled by the sight

Of open heavens at noon of night,

Thou'lt dread the fires of day of judgment

When roll the skies as a parchment slight.

He waits not for that upward gaze —

The world is full of judgment days;

And every night the page is written,

“An atheist,” or “Behold he prays!”

Ah, me! These lights so manifold,

So silvern new, so golden old,

Do witness swift, like fires of vengeance,

Against indifferent hearts and cold.