Come, as to evening comes the silver moon;
As comes the south-wind on the wings of June:
From the far south the waves of summer roll,
Come from the North, thou summer of the soul!
O, how our eyes are lifted to behold
The rising of the star whose beams of gold
Will usher in, with Bethlehem songs above,
The day of Love--sweet universal Love.
Thou art its priest, O son of Zebedee,
And we are waiting--waiting still for thee.
Why tarry yet thy footsteps from afar
Thou gentler John the Baptist? May thy star
The herald of _The Christ_ uprising shine,
The harbinger of love--of Love Divine.
THE BLESSED VALE.
Inscribed to
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.
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