LIGHT IS THE PARENT OF LIFE U 



O wrapp'd all about by the ministry blest 

 And the intimate sense of the garden of rest, 

 How vague are the legends, the memories dim 

 Of the King's distant country surviving for him ! 

 But a hint in the stars, but a voice in the wind, 

 An echo of canticles lost to the mind, 

 Welling up from the depths in the sea's organ 



voice, 

 Bear witness how far he has err'd in his choice. 



In the garden are stairways and turrets and 



towers ; 

 'Twas spring when He enter'd, and sweet were 



the flowers; 

 The maidens sang ballads, how blithe to the 



heart ! 



All bells rang the nuptials of Nature and Art, 

 And the world to the walls in high carnival came, 

 Bright eyes full of rapture, bright faces aflame; 

 But what of that moaning when music is still'd? 

 That ache in the pause which no pageant has 



fill'd? 



The garden has hill-tops, the stars live above; 

 It is summertide now and the world is all love; 

 The maids in full chorus sing jubilant odes, 

 A glory abides in the vistas and roads. 



[203] 



