The Magic Purse

What is the gold of mortal-kind     To that men find     Deep in the poet's mind!     That magic purse     Of Dreams from which     God builds His universe!     That makes life rich     With, many a vision;     Taking the soul from out its prison     Of facts with the precision     A wildflower dons     When Spring comes knocking at the door     Of Earth across the windy lawns;     Calling to Joy to rise and dance before     Her happy feet:     Or with the beat     And bright exactness of a star,     Hanging its punctual point afar,     When Night comes tripping over Heaven's floor,     Leaving a gate ajar.     That leads the Heart from all its aching     Far above where day is breaking;     Out of the doubts, the agonies,     The strife and sin, to join with these     Hope and Beauty and Joy that build     Their golden walls     Of sunset where, with spirits filled,     A Presence calls,     And points a land     Where Love walks, silent; hand in hand     With the Spirit of God, and leads Man right     Out of the darkness into the light.