XLIV — EVENSONG

The embers of the day are red

Beyond the murky hill.

The kitchen smokes: the bed

In the darkling house is spread:

The great sky darkens overhead,

And the great woods are shrill.

So far have I been led,

Lord, by Thy will:

So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still.

The breeze from the enbalmèd land

Blows sudden toward the shore,

And claps my cottage door.

I hear the signal, Lord — I understand.

The night at Thy command

Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question more.