<b>Truth</b> <br /><br />And if sun comes <br />How shall we greet him?<br />Shall we not dread him,<br />Shall we not fear him<br />After so lengthy a<br />Session with shade?<br /><br />Though we have wept for him,<br />Though we have prayed<br />All through the night-years—<br />What if we wake one shimmering morning to<br />Hear the fierce hammering<br />Of his firm knuckles<br />Hard on the door?<br /><br />Shall we not shudder?—<br />Shall we not flee<br />Into the shelter, the dear thick shelter<br />Of the familiar<br />Propitious haze?<br /><br />Sweet is it, sweet is it<br />To sleep in the coolness<br />Of snug unawareness.<br /><br />The dark hangs heavily<br />Over the eyes.