The flecks of gold that glorify...

The flecks of gold that glorify

The forest floors to loving eye,

Withdraw from me,— a splendor lingers

On trees of God, in their crowns on high.

And as the arch with stars is sprent,

I hear balm-dew from firmament

Drip richly from their whispering leafage

To soothe the fields to a sweet content.

In bloom of dark they softly stir,

Till arrowy dawn the shadow-blur

Dispels — God's tingling kiss of morning

On oak and maple and pine and fir.