The Escape

Like one who runs     Fearful at night, he knows not why,     Dreading the loneliness, yet shuns     The highway's casual company;     Wherefore he hastes,     The friendly gloom of ancient trees     Unheeding, and the shining wastes     Lying broad and quiet as the seas;     The beauty of night     Hating for very fear, until     Beyond the bend a lowly light     Beams single from a lowly sill;     And the poor fool,     Flying the sacred, solemn dark,     Leaves gladly the large, cool     Night for that serviceable spark;     And thankful then     To have 'scaped the peril of the way,     Turns not his timid steps again     That night, but waits the common day;--     So I, as weak,     Have fled the great hills of Thy love,     Too faint to hear what Thou dost speak,     Too feeble with fear to look above,     And hasten to win     Some flickering, brief security,     In sinful sleep or waking sin,     From the enfolding thought of Thee!