William James Dawson - Inspirations
SOMETIMES, I know not why, nor how, nor whence,
A change comes over me, and then the task
Of common life slips from me. Would you ask
What power is this which bids the world go hence?
Who knows? I only feel a faint perfume
Steal through the rooms of life; a saddened sense
Of something lost; a music as of brooks
That babble to the sea; pathetic looks
Of closing eyes that in a darkened room
Once dwelt on mine: I feel the general doom
Creep nearer, and with God I stand alone.
O mystic sense of sudden quickening!
Hope’s lark-song rings, or life’s deep undertone
Wails through my heart—and then I needs must sing.