RECOGNITION

As in a foreign land one threads his way

‘ Mid alien scenes, knowing no face he meets;

And, hearing his name spoken, turns and greets

With wondering joy a friend of other days;

As in the pause that comes between the sound

And recognition, all the finer sense

Is swathed in a melodious eloquence,

Which makes his name seem in its sweetness drowned

So stood I, by an atmosphere beguiled

Of glad surprise, when first thy lips let fall

The name I lightly carried when a child,

That I shall rise to at the judgment call.

The music of thy nature folded round

Its barrenness a majesty of sound.