H. N. Powers.
THE BLESSED VALE.
PRELUDE.
Why should we journey to a distant star?
For lo! we dwell within the Land of Dream;
The walls of jasper round about us gleam,
Beneath our feet the golden pavements are.
It is not far, O brothers, to the light;
Unheard by us the crystal waters flow,—
By every path the leaves of healing grow;
We dream of pinions when we need but SIGHT.
* * * * * *
There is a Blessed Vale of beauty rare,
Alas! I cannot find it when I would;
Yet sometimes, in a meditative mood,
My feet have wandered, how I know not, there.
On devious paths unseen by mortal eyes,
O'er pleasant fields or shadowy by-ways drear,
I draw in joy, perchance in sadness, near
To where in peace the Blessed Valley lies.
Sometimes when thro' the sapphire arch of morn
The tides of light and bird-song mingled roll,
A softer radiance falls upon my soul,
A sweeter music to mine ear is borne.
When day's last color like a star-tipt sail
Has vanished o'er the western sea of night,
The air grows mellow with a rosy light,—
And lo! I stand within the mystic vale.