Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/217

Rh XIII

Ye who bear on the torch of living art

In this new world, saved for some wondrous fate,

Deem not that ye have come, alas, too late,

But haste right forward with unfailing heart!

Ye shall not rest forlorn;

Behold, even now, the morn

Rises in splendor from the orient sea,

And the new world shall greet a new divinity.

XIV

Shall greet, ah, who can say! a nobler face

Than from the foam of Cytherean seas:

Loveliness lovelier; mightier harmonies

Of song and color; an intenser grace;

Beauty that shall endure

Like Charis, heavenly-pure;

A Spirit solemn as the starry night,

And full as the triumphant dawn of golden light.

AFTER-SONG

TO ROSAMOND

of the world,

Bloom of the year,

Birth of the dawn!

By morn's one star

Lighted to life!—

Thou and my songs

Come to the day

Hand claspt in hand.