Page:The Man with the Hoe, Markham, 1900.djvu/89

Rh O ferny and thymy paths, O fields of Aidenn,

Canyons and cliffs by mortal feet untrod!

O souls that are weary and are heavy laden,

Here is the peace of God!

Lo! now the clamoring hours are on the way:

Faintly the pine tops redden in the ray;

From vale to vale fleet-footed rumors run,

With sudden apprehension of the sun;

A light wind stirs

The filmy tops of delicate dim firs,

And on the river border blows,

Breaking the shy bud softly to a rose.

Sing out, O throstle, sing:

I follow on, my king:

Lead me forever through the crimson dawn—

Till the world ends, lead me on!

Ho there! he shouts again—he sways—and now,

Upspringing from the bough,

Flashing a glint of dew upon the ground,

Without a sound

He drops into a valley and is gone! 61