The Chain

Once from the bitter page of Doubt it hapt
That, wearily, I turned me to the wall,
And, lo! there, in the hearth's dull embers, all
The self-same thoughts which harrowed me seemed mapt.
But near were coiled a cat and kitten, lapt
In furry dream; then next, where lay in thrall
Of slumber softer than a feather's fall
Dear wife and babe, I stood in silence rapt.
O endless chain of being and of love,
O paths and pathos of mysterious sleep,
Ye pointed to a world yet undescried!
Strange calm befell me, light as from above,
And thoughts which man can neither yield nor keep:
My heart was filled, my house was glorified!
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