Near souls, that hear us call, but answer not,

The loneliness, perplexity and pain,

And high thoughts cankered with an earthly stain

And then the long draught emptied to the lees,

I turn me homeward in slow pacing ease,

Cleaving the cedar shadows and the thin

Mist of grey gnats that cloud the river shore,

Sweet even choruses, that dance and spin

Soft tangles in the sunset; and once more

The city smites me with its dissonant roar.

To its hot heart I pass, untroubled yet,

Fed with calm hope, without desire or fret.

So to the year's first altar step I bring

Gifts of meek song, and make my spirit free

[Pg 5]

With the blind working of unanxious spring,

Careless with her, whether the days that flee

Pale drouth or golden-fruited plenty see,

So that we toil, brothers, without distress,

In calm-eyed peace and godlike blamelessness.

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