Classic Poem

If God last night had raised His hand
And suddenly withdrawn the light,
If He had swept the stars like sand
Into a corner of the night;
If He had held the meteors back
And torn the moon from out the skies,
The darkness would have been less black
Than was the earth before my eyes.

All day I heard an evil wind
Echo a thousand hateful views,
In every face I seemed to find
The bearer of some dreaded news.
All day in mad review there passed
Portents and rumors wild and drawn,
And then—the dream come true at last—
Her house was dark—and she was gone.

Gone—and I sink beneath the press
Of bitterness that naught controls;
Gone—and this petty faithlessness
Destroys a universe of souls;
It shakes one's faith in all things pure,
It taints with cynic gall the sweet—
If love like hers cannot endure,
Is life itself as much a cheat?