| |
| WHO would think this quiet breather | |
| From the world had taken flight? | |
| Yet within the form we see there | |
| Wakes the Golden King to-night. | |
| |
| Out upon the face of faces | 5 |
| He looked forth before his sleep: | |
| Now he knows the starry races | |
| Haunters of the ancient deep. | |
| |
| On the Bird of Diamond Glory | |
| Floats in mystic floods of song: | 10 |
| As he lists Time’s triple story | |
| Seems but as a day is long. | |
| |
| From the mightier Adam falling | |
| To his image dwarfed in clay, | |
| He will at our voices calling | 15 |
| Come to this side of the day. | |
| |
| When he wakes, the dreamy-hearted, | |
| He will know not whence he came, | |
| And the light from which he parted | |
| Be the seraph’s sword of flame, | 20 |
| |
| And behind it hosts supernal | |
| Guarding the lost paradise, | |
| And the tree of life eternal | |
| From the weeping human eyes. | |
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