Gargoyles

To little children, as the storm-tossed bark Hails in the dark Some hardly visible harbour light; we hold The hours of gold To our own breasts, whose hours are iron and brass :— } So swift they pass And grind us down :—we hold the wondrous light Our scattering sight Yet sees, the one star in a night of woe. We trust, and so Lift up our voices in the dying day Indeed to pray: O little hands that are so soft and strong, Lead us along !