I

ON high trees the silver blooms of light

Mingle with intenser brilliances

Of gold's perfection, blinding to earth-sight.

The ail, like harpstrings, thrilled with fragrances

Changed and renewed at every veering breeze

In shimmer-time with bird-wing radiances.

II

Burden less the skies that here release

Their dream-glow of ineffable joy-white

Rim of pearl and zenith of sheer peace.

In whose deep heart the fountain's rainbow height

From an undying worship-rapture flows ?

Or whose thoughts hold lagoons and plumage-bright

Flamingoes that no ruffling zephyr blows—

Yet in one swirl their myriad winging leaves

Earth a green stalk, unpetalled like a rose ?

III

A river-song and diamond stream enfold

The dateless battlements that shall achieve

In Time's last sunset walls of living gold.

THIS was the country that I did not know.

The joy that has no shadow-throw.

A lore which worldlings worthless deem,

That love our thralled hearts fear to show,

That power no helmed hosts bestow

—Of freedomed soul the source and stream.

Here was day's imprisoned beam.

The dying sunset's fadeless gleam,

And prayer of all green things that grow ;

This the Spring's eternal theme—

Flowering trees in silver dream

And visioned globes of gold hood glow.