SONG-WAVES

O soul, that art essential change,

Bickering beams, a flutter strange,

Lightning of thought and gust of passion,

A silver thread in this mountain range;

The waters of thy shimmering rill,

More real are they than granite hill;

Thy tremulous waves of mystic feeling

Nourish a life of enduring will.

The sun and moon from spacious height,

And stars, may crumble into night;

Why shouldst thou cease to move forever,

A living glow of eternal light?