Poems (Radford)/She Comes through the Meadow Yonder
VIII
She comes through the meadow yonder, Her face is turned to the west,And I divine how her clear eyes shine With the light of a lasting rest;And the rays of the sun-set wander To bless her, and she is blest—
By touch of their golden splendour, By beauty of earth and sky,Her spirit waits at the western gates, No music can pass her byThat Heaven or Earth may send her, I watch where I stand, and sigh.