At Minas Basin and Other Poems — Deathless

II.

The fair seasons roll For you and for me.

The inhabiting soul Of the flower and tree, With the day of each Born to be and to die,-- No eternity-speech, No eternity-cry That pierces above, Nor infinite thrill At the touch of Love, Or the voice of His will-- From His fingers begot,-- God-breathed it is not!

III.

'Twas a shy fair one, Like a beam of light From the clouded sun, That rose to the sight Of the eye of emotion In the soul of the Greek, And eternized the form;

And vision, devotion, Ever fixt on the norm,-- Type of beauty of flower, Of grove and of bower, Deathless, unique!

IV.

Not from pole unto pole Is man's hunger of soul, But eternity's set As a deathless fret In the heart of man As it beats the earth-span,-- Beating not from the sod, But an ongoing of God!

And it listens for Him Over Time's flying rim, And it sips, or it stings, A life from all things-- From the flower and the weed And the faint-voiced reed.