[Republished by permission.]

Easter Morn

This poem was later republished in Poems: Po. 30-31

Gently thou beckonest from the giant hills,
     And new-born beauty in the emerald sky,
And wakening murmurs from the drowsy rills,
     O gladsome dayspring! reft of mortal sigh—
To glorify all time—eternity—
With thy still fathomless Christ-majesty.

Brightly thou gildest gladdened joy, dear God!
     Give risen power to prayer; fan Thou the flame
Of might with right; and, midst the rod,
     And stern, dark shadow cast on Thy blest name,
Lift Thou a patient love above earth's ire,
Piercing the clouds with its triumphal spire.

With sacred song and loudest breath of praise,
     Echoing amidst the hymning spheres of light—
And Heaven's lyres and angels' loving lays—
     Send to the loyal struggler for the right
Joy, not of time and not by nature sown,
But the celestial seed dropped from Love's throne.

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March 27, 1902

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