 | Collected poems |  |
149
A LEADER
Though your eyes with tears were blind,
Pain upon the path you trod:
Well we knew, the hosts behind,
Voice and shining of a god.
Pain upon the path you trod:
Well we knew, the hosts behind,
Voice and shining of a god.
For your darkness was our day:
Signal fires, your pains untold
Lit us on our wandering way
To the mystic heart of gold.
Signal fires, your pains untold
Lit us on our wandering way
To the mystic heart of gold.
Naught we knew of the high land,
Beauty burning in its spheres;
Sorrow we could understand
And the mystery told in tears.
Beauty burning in its spheres;
Sorrow we could understand
And the mystery told in tears.
| Collected poems | |