PAIN.
By Margaret Steele Anderson
You eat the heart of life like some great beast,
You blacken the sweet sky, that God made blue!
You are the death's-head set amid the feast,
The desert breath, that drinks up every dew!
And no man lives that doth not fear you, Pain!
And no man lives that learns to love your rod;
The white lip smiles, but ever and again
God's image cries your horror unto God!
And yet, 0, Terrible! men grant you this:
You work a mystery; when you are done,
Lo! common living changes into bliss,
Lo! the mere light is as the noonday sun!