To me, thoughts lived of old anew are born
From glances at the unsullied sea,
Or breath of morning purity,
From cloud or blown grass tossing free,
Or frail dew quivering on leaf, rose or thorn.
What though behind me all is mist and shade,
Yet warmth of afterglow bathes all.
Hallowed spirits move and call
Each to me, a willing thrall,
With kindly speech of mountain, plain or glade.
Before me, through the veil that covers all,
Rays of a vasty Dawn strike high
To the zenith of the sky.
Intense, yet low as true love's sigh,
Prophetic voices to my spirit call.
So, though my voice cease like a moan o' the wind,
Not the less shall I
Cast on life a kindly eye,
Glad if through its mystery
Stray gleams of love and truth illume my mind.
II.
An Afternoon Soliloquy.
How good some years of life may be!
Ah, once it was not guessed by me,
Past years would shine, like some bright sea,
In golden dusks of memory.
Ere then the music of the dawn
From me had long since surged away;
And in the disillusioned day
Of chill mid-life I plodded on.
Anon a fuller music thrilled
My world with meaning undertones,
That elegized our vanished ones,
And told how Lethe's banks are filled