A Song in the Darkness
The heat, the cold, the sulphur and the slime,
The grinding masses of the loosened rock,
The sealing ladders, the incessant grime
From the dark timbers and the dripping block,
The lassitude, the mallet’s frequent knock,
The pain of thirst when water was so near,
The aching joints, the blasted hole’s rude shock,
Could not dash out the music from his ear,
Or stay the sound of song which ever murmured clear.
The cavern’s sides, the vagues of shining soar,
The rood of rock where scarce the candle gleams,
The hollow levels strangely stretching far
Beneath the mountains, full of mineral seams,
Were evermore to him befitting themes,
For meditation and his rustic lay;
While in the darkness his pale visage gleams,
To read rich sonnets on the furrowed clay,
And craggy slabs that jut the ladder’s lonely way.
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