That dims no ray of that eternal day
That from yon unstained hills of peace doth shine,
Whereto thou leadest me, O Love Divine!
IX.
Yet many bitter tears I needs must weep,
Remembering the glimmer of the plain
Where nodding lilies and the bending grain
Seemed rarest treasure in their gold to keep;
Those thoughtless hours ere I learned to look
Beyond my roses to the misty hills—