As from a deep, dead sea, by drastic lift Of pent volcanic fires, the dripping form Of a new island swells to meet the air, And, after months of idle basking, feels The prickly feet of life from countless germs Creeping along its sides, and reaching up In fern and flower to the life-giving sun, So from my grief I rose, and so at length I felt new life returning: so I felt The life already wakened stretching forth To stronger light and purer atmosphere. But most I longed for human love--the source (So sadly closed), from which my life had drawn Its sweetest inspiration and reward. I could not pray, nor could my spirit win From sights and sounds of nature the response It vaguely yearned for. They assailed my sense With senseless seeming of the hum and whirl Of vast machinery, whose motive power Sought its own ends, or wrought for ministry To other life than mine. I could stand still, And see the trains sweep by; could hear the roar Of thundering wheels; could watch the pearly plumes That floated where they flew; could catch a glimpse Of thousand happy faces at the glass; But felt that all their freighted life and wealth Were nought to me, and moved toward other souls In other latitudes. A year had flown, And more, when, on a Sunday morn in June, I wandered out, to wear away the hours Of growing restlessness. The worshippers Were thronging to the service of the day, And gave me sidelong stare, or shunned me quite; As if they knew me for a reprobate, And feared a taint of death. I took the road That eastward cleft the town, and sought the bridge That spanned the river, reaching which I crossed. Then deep within the stripes of springing corn I found the shadow of an elm, and lay Stretched on the downy grass for listless hours, Dreaming of days gone by, or turning o'er With careless hand the pages of a book I had brought with me. Tired at length I rose, And, touched by some light impulse, moved along The old, familiar road. I loitered on In a blind reverie, nor marked the while The furlongs or the time, until the spell In a full burst of music was dissolved. I startled as one startles from a dream, And saw the church of Hadley, from whose doors, Open to summer air, the choral hymn Poured out its measured tides, and rose and fell Upon the silence in broad cadences, As from a far, careering sea, the waves Lift into silver swells the sleeping breasts Of land-locked bays.