UNITY

Where the long valley slopes away

Five miles across the dreaming day

A maple sends a scarlet prayer

Into the still autumnal air,

Three golden-smouldering hickories

Are fanned to flame beneath the breeze

And one great crimson oak tree fires

The sky-line over the Concord spires.

In worship mystically sweet

The rimy asters at my feet

And spiring gentian bells that burn

Blue incense in an azure urn

Breathe softly from the aspiring sod:

“This is our utmost. Take it, God,—

This chant of green, this prayer of blue.

This is the best thy clay can do.”

O lonely heart and widowed brain

Sick with philosophies that strain

Body from spirit, flesh from soul,—

Worship with asters and be whole;

Live simply as still water flows

Till soul shall border brain so close

No blade of wit can thrust between

And hearts are pure as grass is green;

Pray with the maple tree and trust

The ancient ritual of the dust.