 | The ghost's entry and other poems |  |
129
THE DAYS OF THE WEEK
Daughters of God, sweet Days, ye well beseem!Bright are your feet on the high morning shore,
And, going back to Heaven forevermore
Through golden gates of twilight hush and dream,
Your footsteps in the dews of evening shine.
A radiant garland round the burning throne,
Guarded by holy wings—a heavenly zone—
Fair are ye all, bearing the Light Divine.
Yet fairest is she, the youngest of your name,
In her pure garment of translucent white,
And wearing on her head the halo-light
Brightening till all things near her wear the same:
For, though God loves ye all, when ye are blessed
His Hand lies on thy brow, glad Day of Rest!
| The ghost's entry and other poems | |