Vision

The wintry sun was pale                 On hill and hedge;              The wind smote with its flail                 The seeded sedge;              High up above the world,                 New taught to fly,              The withered leaves were hurled                 About the sky;              And there, through death and dearth,                 It went and came,--              The Glory of the earth                 That hath no name.              I know not what it is;                 I only know              It quivers in the bliss                 Where roses blow,              That on the winter's breath                 It broods in space,              And o'er the face of death                 I see its face,              And start and stand between                 Delight and dole,              As though mine eyes had seen                 A living Soul.              And I have followed it,                 As thou hast done,              Where April shadows flit                 Beneath the sun;              In dawn and dusk and star,                 In joy and fear,              Have seen its glory far                 And felt it near,              And dared recall his name                 Who stood unshod              Before a fireless flame,                 And called it God.