To-night a thought leapt in my head like flame.
Suppose one night I walked into my room
And found that someone filling all the gloom
Was waiting on my bed until I came;
And I walked in and switched the light on straight,
And found the figure sitting on my bed,
Limp with contrition and with sunken head,
Was God bowed down under His burden's weight;
And He looked up with sorrow and surmise
To see how deep the tale the Wars have written
Lay on my mortal features, battle-smitten,
And in the shadows of my deathless eyes;
--This was the thought and flame that pierced me through:
If God sat waiting there, anxious and grey,
Then should I have the charity to say,
"God, we forgive you; you know not what you do"?