Wisdom

 When Wisdom tells me that the world’s a speck 
Lost on the shoreless blue of God’s To-Day.
.
.
 
I smile, and think, ‘For every man his way: 
The world’s my ship, and I’m alone on deck!’ 
And when he tells me that the world’s a spark
Lit in the whistling gloom of God’s To-Night.
.
.
 
I look within me to the edge of dark, 
And dream, ‘The world’s my field, and I’m the lark, 
Alone with upward song, alone with light!’

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