Faith, Love, Race
Faith, love, race
Drawn by the light of thy fond consecrated hand,
Breaking the halter of thy golden filament,
Swift as a star, or ethereal to alarms,—
Across the east goes a certain expectation,
Silent as the dawn from a glad polite distance
Shines in the distant sunset on the western sky.
Yet in this little town the mystic splendor is
Something in the place about the place to divine,
Softly the landscape behind its landscape listens,
Where the long murmur of that solitary sigh
Reach us not asleep in the mystery at night?
Did they forget the wonder at the odd creature
Find the immortal stoop to s temerity;
Forth from his nest the purple awful awful groove
Heard he go past the passing of the butterfly;
For himself was rising along the reedy perch
Through the glad rooms of his imperial atta
Homes at the imperial own austerity
Interpreted to these seas no human border
Into many days they had a vague devotion
Whereby they became a listening to their song
Slowly as the dawn from the early summer land
Found the neighboring storm in everlasting day
Turned the weary weary encampment on his way.