 | The Stranger at the Gate |  |
MORNING GLORIES
DISTANT as a dream's flight
Lay an eerie plain,
Where the weary moonlight
Swooned into a moan;
Wailing after dead seed,
Came the ghost of rain;
There was I a wild weed
Growing all alone.
Lay an eerie plain,
Where the weary moonlight
Swooned into a moan;
Wailing after dead seed,
Came the ghost of rain;
There was I a wild weed
Growing all alone.
Like a doubted story
Came the thought of day;
God and all his glory
Lingered otherwhere,
Busy with the dawn-thrill
Many dreams away.
Could a little weed's will
Fling so far a prayer?
Came the thought of day;
God and all his glory
Lingered otherwhere,
Busy with the dawn-thrill
Many dreams away.
Could a little weed's will
Fling so far a prayer?
Oh, the sudden wonder!
(Is a prayer so fleet?)
>From the desert under,
Morning glories grew!
Twined me, bound me
With caressing feet!
Wove song round me—
Pink, white, blue!
(Is a prayer so fleet?)
>From the desert under,
Morning glories grew!
Twined me, bound me
With caressing feet!
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Pink, white, blue!
As a fog is rifted
By the eager breeze,
Darkness broke and lifted,
Tossing like a sea!
Lo, the dawn was flowering
Through the maple trees!
Oh—and you were showering
Kisses over me!
By the eager breeze,
Darkness broke and lifted,
Tossing like a sea!
Lo, the dawn was flowering
Through the maple trees!
Oh—and you were showering
Kisses over me!
| The Stranger at the Gate | |