 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
“BEYOND THE BRANCHES OF THE PINE”
Beyond the branches of the pine
The golden sun no more doth shine,
But still the solemn afterglow
Floods the deep heavens with light divine.
The golden sun no more doth shine,
But still the solemn afterglow
Floods the deep heavens with light divine.
The night-wind stirs the corn-field near,
The gray moon turns to silver clear,
And one by one the glimmering stars
In the blue dome of heaven appear.
The gray moon turns to silver clear,
And one by one the glimmering stars
In the blue dome of heaven appear.
Now do the mighty hosts of light
Across the darkness take their flight;
They rise above the eastern hill
And silent journey through the night.
Across the darkness take their flight;
They rise above the eastern hill
And silent journey through the night.
And there beneath the starry zone,
In the deep, narrow grave, alone,
Rests all that mortal was of her,
The purest spirit I have known.
In the deep, narrow grave, alone,
Rests all that mortal was of her,
The purest spirit I have known.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |