HIGHER.
I have lifted up my eyes unto the mountains, whence help shall come to me.—Ps. cxx.
Too late have I known thee, O Infinite Beauty! too late have I loved thee, O Beauty ever ancient and new!—St. Augustine.
I.
'Mid wide green meadows, made more fair with flowers—
Tall, golden lilies, swaying in the sun,
Slight, clustering rue that web of silver spun—
I lingered dreaming through the day’s first hours.
About me men in work-day toil were bent,
Swift levelling the daisies’ drift of snow,