I DREAMT (no "dream" awake—a dream indeed)
A wrathful man was talking in the Park:
"Where are the Higher Powers who know our need,
⁠Yet leave us in the dark?

"There are no Higher Powers; there is no heart
In God, no love"—his oratory here,
Taking the paupers' and the cripples' part,
⁠Was broken by a tear.

And next it seemed that One who did invent
Compassion, who alone created pity,
Walked, as though called, and hastened as He went
⁠Out from the muttering city;

Threaded the little crowd, trod the brown grass.
Bent o'er the speaker close, saw the tear rise.
And saw Himself, as one looks in a glass,
⁠In those impassioned eyes.