The Invisible Bride

She kindles the desire

Whereby the gods survive

The white ideal fire

That keeps my soul alive.

Now at the wondrous hour

She leaves her star supreme, And comes in the night's still power To touch me with a dream.

Sibyl of mystery

On roads beyond our ken,
Softly she comes to me,
And goes to God again.

I know a valley in the summer hills,
Haunted by little winds and daffodils;
Faint footfalls and soft shadows pass at noon;
Noiseless, at night, the clouds assemble there;
And ghostly summits hang below the moon
Dim visions lightly swung in silent air.

There's a feel of all things flowing,

And no power of Earth can bind them; There's a sense of all things growing, And through all their forms a-glowing Of the shaping souls behind them.

And the break of beauty heightens
With the swiftening of the motion,

And the soul behind it lightens,
As a gleam of splendor whitens
From a running wave of ocean.

The Climb of Life

See the still hand of the Shaper,

Moving in the dusk of being: Burns at first a misty taper, Like the moon in veil of vapor, When the rack of night is fleeing.

In the stone a dream is sleeping,
Just a tinge of life, a tremor;
In the tree a soul is creeping-
Last, a rush of angels sweeping

With the skies beyond the dreamer.

So the Lord of Life is flinging
Out a splendor that conceals Him:
And the God is softly singing,
And on secret ways is winging,
Till the rush of song reveals Him.

The Tragedy

Oh, the fret of the brain,

And the wounds and the worry ;

Oh, the thought of love and the thought of death

And the soul in its silent hurry.

But the stars break above,

And the fields flower under;

And the tragical life of man goes on,
Surrounded by beauty and wonder.