Fair child of the light,
What fixes thy sight?
Wide-open thy roll
From the seal of the clod,
And thy heaven-writ scroll
Glows, beautiful soul,
With the shining of God!
Thou look'st into heaven
As surely as Stephen,
So steadfast thy will is!
And from earth's inglenook
Seest Christ of the lilies
And daffadowndillies,
And catchest His look.
And a portion is mine,
Rapt gazer divine,
From thy countenance given—
Angel bliss in thy face!
I've looked into heaven
As surely as Stephen,
From out of my place!
[THE WHITE ROSE.]
(AT ——'S GRAVE.)
Rose pendent in calm of the sun,
(A type of my holiest thought)
Fair substance and emblem in one,—
Sweet rose—sweet soul without spot!
Sweetness of beauty of God
Both over and under the sod.
Each moulded in earth's cloud and shine,
White fulness of being complete,
Love's rose of beauty divine!
Thy past, but evolvings sweet,
Now, moment of essence for aye,
Thy future, eternity's day!
O rose in the mirror of time—
Calm image from under the sod—
O form of eternal prime,
All-peaceful beauty of God,—
Fulness of seventy times seven,
Made without hands, in the heaven!