THE WHITE MOON WASTETH.

The white moon wasteth,

And cold morn hasteth

Athwart the snow,

The red east burneth

And the tide turneth,

And thou must go.

Think not, sad rover,

Their story all over

Who come from far —

Once, in the ages

Won goodly wages

Led by a star.

Once, for all duly

Guidance doth truly

Shine as of old,

Opens for me and thee

Once, opportunity

Her gates of gold.

Enter, thy star is out,

Traverse nor faint nor doubt

Earth's antres wild,

Thou shalt find good and rest

As found the Magi blest

That divine Child.