In Sleep
 
I dreamt (no “dream” awake—a dream indeed)
A wrathful man was talking in the park:
“Where are the Higher Powers, who know our need
      And leave us in the dark?
 
“There are no Higher Powers; there is no heart
In God, no love”—his oratory here,
Taking the paupers’ and the cripples’ part,
      Was broken by a tear.
 
And then it seemed that One who did create
Compassion, who alone invented pity,
Walked, as though called, in at that north-east gate,
      Out from the muttering city;
 
Threaded the little crowd, trod the brown grass,
Bent o’er the speaker close, saw the tear rise,
And saw Himself, as one looks in a glass,
      In those impassioned eyes.


Webpage © 2001 ELC
Lane Core Jr. (lane@elcore.net)
http://poetry.elcore.net/CatholicPoets/Meynell/Meynell087.html
Created April 10, 2001; not revised.