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{41}

  The flecks of gold that glorify
  The forest floors to loving eye,
    Withdraw from me,--a splendor lingers
  On trees of God, in their crowns on high.

  And as the arch with stars is sprent,
  I hear balm-dew from firmament
    Drip richly from their whispering leafage
  To soothe the fields to a sweet content.

  In bloom of dark they softly stir,
  Till arrowy dawn the shadow-blur
    Dispels--God's tingling kiss of morning
  On oak and maple and pine and fir.



{42}

  The ideal is a lifting sky
  Wherein my soul may upward fly;
    It moveth as I onward journey,
  Solace of heart and the light of eye.

  Spirit to spirit!  Thus is wrought
  All that uplifts the world of thought
    Or wings the soul with aspiration,
  By which the life to its height is brought.

  Great souls the mount of vision trod,
  While plumy fire their sandals shod;
    They saw the unseen and eternal.
  O life is life when 'tis seen in God!



{43}

  The spirit firm and swelling soul
  Are heart of noble self-control,
    Sources of power transmuting danger
  To clarion-call to the man as whole.

  'Tis courage helms the bark that's tost
  By wild typhoon, or swept by frost,
    While sailing life's surprising ocean,--
  Strike sail to fear and the bark is lost.

  O muse, thou sing'st no siren strain
  To him who plows this heaven-domed main!
    Thy starry eyes look down all-wistful
  On souls that toy with a tangled skein.



{44}

  Man's highest word, as God's above,
  The golden word of words, is love;
    Its whisper is the soul's one rapture,
  Its voice the voice of the brooding dove.

  Immortal rose of joy elate,
  Thy perfume's waft by palace gate
    Or hovel door, in cloud or sunshine,
  That breath of Eden which all hearts wait.

  Ensouled in clay man's glory is,
  Yet love dilates this soul of his
    Till chrysalis of earth be shattered,
  And comes the answer to Psyche's quiz.



{45}

  Love bows herself in holy prayer
  To worship ever the All Fair;
    She coins her heart in largess golden,
  And beggars self on her altar-stair.

  Love lifts her hands that, liker yet
  To One whom on the way she met,
    All hearts may glow, as sea to sky light,
  Till earth shall never its heaven forget.

  Love bears upon her ardent breast
  The fainting ones in east and west,
    And yearning cries: Let come Thy kingdom,
  Be Thou of sorrowing hearts the guest.



{46}

  As on a hill-top near the sun
  The stars are unseen, every one,
    While from its base within the valley
  Their festal pomp is e'en now begun;

  So lowly lives 'mid shadows passed
  Have higher skies above them massed,
    See galaxies and constellations--
  The many mansions o'er them englassed.

  Encamped am I; earth's not my home.
  The glory flashing 'neath yon dome,
    Refusing to be leashed, like music,
  Supernal is, and it beckons, Come!



{47}

  Sunshine, O soul, is not a mood--
  Open the life unto the good.
    The great sun globes itself at morning
  In dewy lawns, but 'tis dark in wood.

  Up, up, and purge thy spirit's sight.
  See wheeling wings, superb in flight,
    Of golden eagle's aspiration!
  E'en thus aspire to the Central Light.

  In loom divine the clouds are wove,
  And shot with hues of irised dove,
    The blinding shafts of light to temper
  With airy curtains of Love's own love.



{48}

  A bird on sudden, as I write,
  Through open door in eager flight
    Seeks refuge from a falcon's talons,
  Upon my breast, in its fearful plight.

  Slight bird and dark in olive green,
  With yellow throat, thy living sheen
    Doth come and go with thy heart's throbbing,--
  Safe, safe art thou from his talons keen!

  I am as God to thee, poor thing!
  Now take thee to thy heaven and sing
    A virelay for thy deliverance,
  Sweet vireo of the olive wing!



{49}

  Fresh sprig of greenest southernwood,
  Thou call'st me back to my childhood!
    Thy aromatic odors waken
  A thousand echoes. I hear the good

  Old man of God, long-haired and tall,
  In the old church, to great and small,
    His lightning message give, and listen
  The echoing thunder that rolled o'er all.

  The tiny child twirls oft its spray
  Of southernwood,--'tis a far day,
    Yet fresh I smell the keen aroma,
  See arms ahovering--"Let us pray!"



{50}

  I feel the season's dreamy call
  In hawkbit, asters, 'pyeweed tall,--
    Glory of August ere September
  Trumpet the note of the hasting fall.

  A flash in crystal waters cold--
  O dream in silver, red, and gold--
    The speckled trout above the gravel
  Lies by the rock where the stream is rolled!

  Grasshoppers chirp and crickets chir,
  The rich-tagged alders nod and pur,
    The kine bells drowse the distant pasture,--
  All nature waits for the coming stir.



{51}

  This golden-browed September land
  Is rich of heart and free of hand;
    Fresh from the mint of God, and taintless,
  Are flung her guineas of gold, like sand.

  Here where the road winds round the hill,
  And down beside the tidal mill,
    Marsh goldenrod and its plumed sister
  Their spangled ore in a largess spill.

  The Sabbath sabbatize, said He,--
  This gold is sacred unto me,--
    Rich gift of God unknown of mammon,
  Kingdom of Heaven by the roadside, free!



{52}

  I keep one picture in my heart,
  To be of life a cherished part,--
    A picture waiting yet its canvas
  From master hand of divinest art:

  A wan blind man and Christ sun-brown,
  Hand in His hand, are walking down
    The thronged street into the open
  Beyond the walls of Bethsaida town.

  Light of the world with night in kiss!
  Pathetic scene--a scene of bliss!
    The rayless eyes are touched to healing!
  Was ever picture so sweet as this?