 | [Horizon, in] A masque of poets |  |
159
HORIZON.
Oh subtle mystery of the air!
Or, is it mystery of the earth?
Which wooes? Which pregnant thrills to bear
In secrecy the beauteous birth?
Or, is it mystery of the earth?
Which wooes? Which pregnant thrills to bear
In secrecy the beauteous birth?
Before the dawn from gray to rose,
Before the night from rose to gray,
With traceless change it comes and goes,
And comes and goes, and will not stay.
Before the night from rose to gray,
With traceless change it comes and goes,
And comes and goes, and will not stay.
Our feet walk tireless in its lure;
Our eyes insatiate pierce its bound;
Our hearts wait confident and sure,
The wealth of its enchanted ground.
Our eyes insatiate pierce its bound;
Our hearts wait confident and sure,
The wealth of its enchanted ground.
For threescore years from gray to rose,
From rose to gray, it shines and saves
Our lives from dearth.
Who knows, who knows,
If we shall see it in our graves!
From rose to gray, it shines and saves
Our lives from dearth.
Who knows, who knows,
If we shall see it in our graves!
| [Horizon, in] A masque of poets | |