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Edwin Arlington Robinson - Sonnet 38: The Children of the Night
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WHEN we can all so excellently give	
The measure of love’s wisdom with a blow,—	
Why can we not in turn receive it so,	
And end this murmur for the life we live?	
And when we do so frantically strive	        
To win strange faith, why do we shun to know	
That in love’s elemental over-glow	
God’s wholeness gleams with light superlative?	
 
Oh, brother men, if you have eyes at all,	
Look at a branch, a bird, a child, a rose,	       
Or anything God ever made that grows,—	
Nor let the smallest vision of it slip,	
Till you may read, as on Belshazzar’s wall,	
The glory of eternal partnership.
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