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On Viol and Flute

By Edmund W. Gosse
  
  
  

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SPIRITUAL DAWN.
  
  
  
  


148

SPIRITUAL DAWN.

Eastward ever I, like Rudel,
Gaze in constant hope and silence
Waiting till my heart's sun-blossom
Rise upon a dreary world;
For its leaves of light bear healing
To the wounds of my pale spirit,
And the cave of air grows ruddy
With the promise of that dawn.
As I murmured thus, the silence
Broke in such Memnonian music,
That I doubted now no longer,
Falling on my knees in prayer.
But when those sweet sounds were ended,
All the dawn-light, quivering, altered
Into crimson wings of angels,
Hovering over moor and sea.

149

And between their wings ethereal
Came, like muffled thunder, toning,
Words that whispered, Never, never,
Shall that sun arise for thee!
Stars may light thy clear cold pathway,
Gracious moons in purple twilight,
But the sun of life shall never
Rise for all thy prayers and tears!