Or in love's stillness, high above the strife,     

       We found our spirits strangely catching fire,     

       And told of that " unspeakable desire  

       After the knowledge of the buried life."     

  

       He knows its secret now; the morning mist     

       Drifts up the road where his last footprint lies;     

       And I, as ever when a Christ-man dies,     

       Stand awe-struck, asking, "Was not this the     

       Christ?"     

  

       His soul craved God. I think we always knew     

       He would be with us but a little while.     

       Night vanished; dawn broke—when he saw God     

       smile     

       Back like a homing-bird to God he flew.     

   

  

       THE MOON-MOTHER     

 Prev. P 37/142 next