by: Fred G. Bowles
- S the
slow Evening gatherd in her grey,
- And one clear star its ancient pathway trod--
- With long, low cadences of dear delay
- The lark, descending, left his song with God!
- And Peace came, like a reverential soul,
- With far-off tremors of a further world,
- And thro the silver mist of twilight stole
- Unto the heart of all. And upward curld
- The April moon, resurgent of the sun,
- To the blue dusk of the exalted dome
- Of heavn; and the white wind-flowers, one by one,
- Shook in light slumber on their hilly home.
- It was so sweet to stoop and feel around!
- Each blade of grass a breathing lyre of life
- Whereon the wind, in arias of sound,
- Told subtle music; how the great World, rife
- With scent of violet, and primrose-strewn,
- Straind tender fingers from each dewy sod
- To the dear Christ of chrysalis and moon--
- And, dusk descending, left her soul with God!
POEMS BY FRED G. BOWLES
"Resurrection" is reprinted
from The Oxford book of English mystical verse. Ed. D.H.S.
Nicholson. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1917.