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FLOWER SONGS.
Then gently was I wareOf a pure breath from that delicious hourWhen day sweeps all her glory after herTo fresh horizons,—rapt and holy toneWhere lingered yet the note that haply fellFrom seraphs leaning o'er the battlementsOf shining tower and rampart far above,And ever in their idlesse singing praise.
THE LILY.
Lift thine eyes, against the deepening skies All the sacred hills like altars glow,Waiting for the hastening sacrifice Ere the evening winds begin to blow.
Lift thy heart, and let the prayer depart To meet the heavenly flame upon the height,Till all thy shadows to effulgence start, And the calm brain grow clear with still delight!
