Thomas Hardy — The Unborn

I rose at night, and visited        &nbsp The Cave of the Unborn: And crowding shapes surrounded me For tidings of the life to be, Who long had prayed the silent Head        &nbsp To haste its advent morn. Their eyes were lit with artless trust,        &nbsp Hope thrilled their every tone; "A scene the loveliest, is it not? A pure delight, a beauty-spot Where all is gentle, true and just,        &nbsp And darkness is unknown?" My heart was anguished for their sake,        &nbsp I could not frame a word; And they descried my sunken face, And seemed to read therein, and trace The news that pity would not break,        &nbsp Nor truth leave unaverred. And as I silently retired        &nbsp I turned and watched them still, And they came helter-skelter out, Driven forward like a rabble rout Into the world they had so desired        &nbsp By the all-immanent Will.