Page:The college beautiful, and other poems.djvu/77

Rh And my mouth that has gnawed on the vines Winter-beaten and faded and cold, Is athirst for the harvested wines And the fair-fashioned vessels of gold, Which the goddess of truth shall hold to the lips Ere the passing soul in the shadow dips And the hours of life are told.

HEN the birds have hushed their choirs, Through the sunset's rifted fires, Like a queenly diadem Gleam afar the golden spires Of the New Jerusalem. Thorny be our path and sterile, There is rest from pain and peril, Where with many a flashing gem, Jasper, chrysolite, and beryl, Shines the New Jerusalem. Not for these my heart beats faster, But for her ascended Master. Oh, to touch his garment's hem In the courts of alabaster, In the New Jerusalem !