And the Solemn Thunder of God's Laugh

Laughter
by Henry Ignatius Dudley Ryder

The world's laugh, the world's laugh,
 Is hardly to be borne;
 It is the wind that parts the chaff
 From the solid golden corn. 

 Hither and thither the chaff flies,
 And out through the open door
 Heavy and rich the grain lies
 Upon the granary floor. 

 But one day the world's laugh,
 Which now doth lord it so,
 Shall fail and sink with the light chaff
 Into the fire below. 

And the solemn thunder of God's laugh,
The breath of Almighty scorn,
Shall drown for ever the world's laugh
And may of none be borne.