 | Anyta and other poems |  |
112
POETS.
We haunt the early mountain heights,Flusht by the dawns of truth;
Here rustle God's creative mights,
Here we can keep our youth:
Rather the morning's golden flight,
With never rested wings,
Than the unwholesome ignorant night
Which too much resting brings.
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Where beautiful Ideals
Aye brace and tone themselves for calls
To earth's abrupt ordeals:
Better a day in Beauty's school,—
Beauty the bride of Truth,—
Than months of seedless, drowsy rule;
For thus we keep our youth.
| Anyta and other poems | |