NEW country lies before me,

The old is far away ; .

New voices whiles implore me

That I turn toward their Day.

Toward their Day I'm turning—

No other goal will guide—,

To Its faint glimmer yearning

I climb the valley side.

Up valley side I clamber ;

The mists are wearing thin ;

In ecstasy of amber

The sunrise pomps begin.

The pomps begin, and glory

Of purple and ruby gold

Are frontispiece to story

The far-glimpsed Hours enfold.