 | Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems |  |
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Autumn Afternoon.
In the clouds my eye makes pictures,
And paints them on the sky,
And I photograph them on my mind
As they go drifting by.
And paints them on the sky,
And I photograph them on my mind
As they go drifting by.
In the air my ear finds music,
And tracks it to the trees,
And I score it on my heart before
It leaves me with the breeze.
And tracks it to the trees,
And I score it on my heart before
It leaves me with the breeze.
On the earth my heart hears voices
From the buried whom I love,
And I lean to listen, but I find
Them echoes from Above.
From the buried whom I love,
And I lean to listen, but I find
Them echoes from Above.
On the seas my spirit trembles
At the wierd, wild tones it hears,
But it's only waves, I know, that sing
The Anthem of the Years.
At the wierd, wild tones it hears,
But it's only waves, I know, that sing
The Anthem of the Years.
From deep valleys, looking upward,
All is calm that I descry,
But I know the earth is fill'd with strife
Beneath that quiet sky.
All is calm that I descry,
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Beneath that quiet sky.
On the mountains, gazing downward,
Of my heav'nward height I'm vain,
Yet I know the earth, seen from above,
Is all one level plain.
Of my heav'nward height I'm vain,
Yet I know the earth, seen from above,
Is all one level plain.
And it's always thus:—wherever
I go, whatever do,
Still the False is sure to come with strength,
But stronger comes the True.
I go, whatever do,
Still the False is sure to come with strength,
But stronger comes the True.
And the False comes first in order,
Its face all wreath'd with smiles,
And thus tempts me with its hollowness,
And woos me with its wiles.
Its face all wreath'd with smiles,
And thus tempts me with its hollowness,
And woos me with its wiles.
But I think me of the temple,
And the pinnacle of old—
Of the False that shrank with terror there,
And the True that there were bold.
And the pinnacle of old—
Of the False that shrank with terror there,
And the True that there were bold.
And I think of the high mountain,
And the wealth that lay in view—
And the Devil there that still was false,
And the Christ that still was True.
And the wealth that lay in view—
And the Devil there that still was false,
And the Christ that still was True.
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And I think me of the Angels
In the paths of Space that trod,
And there minister'd, in light and love,
To Him, the Son of God.
In the paths of Space that trod,
And there minister'd, in light and love,
To Him, the Son of God.
And I think of all the Shadows
That, like night, make dim my way,
But pass off, or soon or late, and leave
The certain light of day;
That, like night, make dim my way,
But pass off, or soon or late, and leave
The certain light of day;
And of all the blessèd angels
That these shades have broken through,
With their constant warnings of the False,
And their whispers of the True.
That these shades have broken through,
With their constant warnings of the False,
And their whispers of the True.
Then I send a voice to Heaven,
With my thanks for every boon;
And I worry not—but still enjoy
My Autumn Afternoon.
With my thanks for every boon;
And I worry not—but still enjoy
My Autumn Afternoon.
| Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems | |