Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/113

 But he walked through the ancient wilderness. O, there the prints of feet were numberless And holy all about him! And quite plain He saw each spot an angel silvershod Had lit upon; where Jacob too had lain The place seemed fresh,—and, bright and lately trod, A long track showed where Enoch walked with God.

And often, while the sacred darkness trailed Along the mountains smitten and unveiled By rending lightnings,—over all the noise Of thunders and the earth that quaked and bowed From its foundations—he could hear the voice Of great Elias prophesying loud To Him whose face was covered by a cloud.

Already he was shown so perfectly The awful mystic grace and sanctity Of all the earth, there was no part his feet With sandal covering might dare to tread; Because that in it he was sure to meet The fair sword-bearing angels, or some dread Eternal prophet numbered with the dead.