Page:General William Booth enters into Heaven, and other poems.djvu/131

Rh For men to carve these fairy-forms And faces in a fountain-frieze; Dancers that own immortal hours; Painters that work upon their knees; Maids, lovers, friends, so deep in life, So deep in love and poet's deeds, The railroad is a thing disowned, The city but a field of weeds.

Who can pass a village church By night in these clean prairie lands Without a touch of Spirit-power? So white and fixed and cool it stands&mdash; A thing from some strange fairy-town, A pious amaranthine flower, Unsullied by the winds, as pure As jade or marble, wrought this hour:&mdash; Rural in form, foursquare and plain, And yet our sister, the new moon, Makes it a praying wizard's dream. The trees that watch at dusty noon Breaking its sharpest lines, veil not The whiteness it reflects from God, Flashing like Spring on many an eye, Making clean flesh, that once was clod.

Who can pass a district school Without the hope that there may wait