IN MEMORY OF A. E. C.
145
From your celestial pleasances,
What welcome waits you, dawn or night!
And in the sweetness, the repose,
My common room a temple grows,
All rosy bloom and stainless white,
Where I commune, no fear to mar,
With friends who were and friends who are.
What welcome waits you, dawn or night!
And in the sweetness, the repose,
My common room a temple grows,
All rosy bloom and stainless white,
Where I commune, no fear to mar,
With friends who were and friends who are.
Yet not to outward sight they come;
A finer sense their presence tells;
As when, from winter cold and dumb,
Unseen the south wind wakes the dells—
The south wind and the silent sun—
While robins sing and brooklets run
And every bud with rapture swells!
Such soul of spring, such Avatar,
Come friends who were and friends who are.
A finer sense their presence tells;
As when, from winter cold and dumb,
Unseen the south wind wakes the dells—
The south wind and the silent sun—
While robins sing and brooklets run
And every bud with rapture swells!
Such soul of spring, such Avatar,
Come friends who were and friends who are.
