I know not why it was, but then, and there,
I felt a sinking sadness, passing tears--
A dark foreboding I could not dissolve,
Nor drive away. But when, next morn, I woke
In the sweet stillness of the Sabbath day,
And found myself alone, I knew that hearts
Which once have been God's temple, and in which
Something divine still lingers, feel the throb
Along the lines that bind them to the Throne
When judgment issues; and, though dumb and blind,
Shudder and faint with prophecies of ill.
How--by what cause--calamity should come,
I could not guess; that it was imminent
Seemed just as certain as the morning's dawn.
We were to have a gala day, indeed.
There were to be processions and parades;
A great oration in a mammoth tent,
With dinner following, and toast and speech
By all the wordy magnates of the town;
A grand balloon ascension afterwards;
And, in the evening, fireworks on the hill.
I knew that drink would flow from morn till night
In a wild maelstrom, circling slow around
The village rim, in bright careering waves,
But growing turbulent, and changed to ink
Around the village center, till, at last,
The whirling, gurgling vortex would engulf
A maddened multitude in drunkenness.
And this was in my thought (the while my heart
Was palpitating with its nameless fear),