The Climb of Life

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 aglowing 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.

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.

The Climb of Life

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.

Divine Vision

Can it be the Master knows
How the Cosmic Blossom blows?

Yes, at times the Lord of Light
Breaks forth wonderful and white,
And he strikes a chorded lyre
In a rush of whirlwind fire;
And He sees before Him pass
Souls and planets in a glass;
And within the music hears
All the motions of all spheres,
All the whispers of all feet,
Cries of triumph and retreat,
Songs of systems and of souls,
Circling to their mighty goals.

So the Lord of Light beholds How the Cosmic Flower unfolds.

Midsummer Noon

Yonder a workman, under the cool bridge, Resting at mid-day, watches the glancing midge,

While twinkling lights and murmurs of the

stream

Pass into the dim fabric of his dream.

The misty hollows and the drowsy ridge— How like an airy fantasy they seem.