June 25

HER mist of primroses within her breast Twilight hath folded up, and o'er the west, Seeking remoter valleys long hath gone, Nor yet hath come her sister of the dawn. Silence and coolness now the earth enfold, Jewels of glittering green, long mists of gold, Hazes of nebulous silver veil the height, And shake in tremors through the shadowy night. Heard through the stillness, as in whispered words, The wandering God-guided wings of birds Ruffle the dark. The little lives that lie Deep hid in grass join in a long-drawn sigh More softly still; and unheard through the blue, The failing of innumerable dew, Lifts with grey fingers all the leaves that lay Burned in the heat of the consuming day.

Oh, far away and wonderful and sweet, All this, all this. But far too many things Obscuring, as a cloud of seraph wings Blinding the seeker for the Lord behind, I fall away in weariness of mind, And think how far apart are I and you, Beloved, from those spirit children, who Felt but one single Being long ago, Whispering in gentleness and leaning low Out of its majesty, as child to child. I think upon it all with heart grown wild, Hearing no voice, howe'er my spirit broods, No whisper from the dense infinitudes.

"A. E.," The Divine Vision

OUR PAST