A cry like a child's cry lost in the rain Came to me out of the mist. I rose and answered that cry again, But it went sobbing over the plain And died into the mist. And where it had been came the scent of flowers Out of a world's distress, With a moan of gathered thunder-showers And a gasping loneliness. And the gods with their faces wet with crying, The old gods strange and wild, Swept out upon us across the night, And -- oh mystery, mystery infinite! The gods and the weeping child and I Laughed and kissed in ecstasy! |