Memorials of a Happy Time: The Glimpse

Our many deeds, the thoughts that we have thought
They go out from us thronging every hour;
And in them all is folded up a power
That on the earth doth move them to and fro:
And mighty are the marvels they have wrought
In hearts we know not, and may never know.
Our actions travel and are veiled: and yet
We sometimes catch a fearful glimpse of one
When out of sight its march hath well-nigh gone,
An unveiled thing which we can ne'er forget!
All sins it gathers up into its course,
And then they grow with it, and are its force:
One day with dizzy speed that thing shall come,
Recoiling on the heart that was its home.