High grew the snow beneath the low-hung sky,
And all was silent in the Wilderness;
In trance of stillness Nature heard her God
Rebuilding her spent fires, and veil'd her face
While the Great Worker brooded o'er His work.
* * * * *
"Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree,
What doth thy bold voice promise me?"
* * * * *
"I promise thee all joyous things,
That furnish forth the lives of kings!
* * * * *
"For ev'ry silver ringing blow,
Cities and palaces shall grow!"
* * * * *
"Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree,
Tell wider prophecies to me."
* * * * *