C.S. Calverley
OUT of the night, out of the blinding night
Thy beacon flashes;—hail, beloved light
Of Greece and Grecian; hail, for in the mirk
Thou dost reveal each valley and each height.
Thou art my leader and the footprints thine,
Wherein I plant my own. Thro' storm and shine
Thy love upholds me. Ne'er was rivalry
'Twixt owl and thrush, 'twixt steeds and shambling kine.
The world was thine to read, and having read,
Before thy children's eyes thou didst outspread
The fruitful page of knowledge, all the wealth
Of wisdom, all her plenty for their bread.
As honey-bees thro' flowery glades in June
Rifle the blossoms, so at our high-noon
Of life we gather in melodious glades
The golden honey of thy deathless rune.
And whoso roams benighted, on his ear,
Out of the darkness strikes an echo clear
Of thy triumphant challenge:—'Ye who quail,
Come unto me, for I have cast out fear.'
Thereat the walls o' the world fade far away
And thou, great Nature's seër, dost display
The miracle of her workings in the void:—
The night is past and reason dawns with day.
Heaven lies about us and we see the hall,
Where never storm-fiend raves nor snow-flakes fall
In webs of winter whiteness to ensnare
The golden summer. Peace is over all;
A canopy of cloudless sky, a glow
Of laughing sunshine; all the flowers that blow
Are there, and there from Nature's teeming breast
Rivers of strength and sweetness ever flow.