The poetical works of Edwin Oscar Gale . s Dawn, 27 Ye draw the golden bars of Day—With crimson banners lead the warp and woof of blue and silver borders to each fold,Your curtains sweep the jeweled floor,While through them all the sunbeams when at length Apollos car,Low rolls beneath the evening star,And in his path, descending western skies are all aglow,Your scattered garlands meet him thereAs floating on the tranquil nymphs arrayed in vestments brightThe nuptials view of Day and Night;And throw on high a crimson arch,Beneath which twilights slo
The poetical works of Edwin Oscar Gale . s Dawn, 27 Ye draw the golden bars of Day—With crimson banners lead the warp and woof of blue and silver borders to each fold,Your curtains sweep the jeweled floor,While through them all the sunbeams when at length Apollos car,Low rolls beneath the evening star,And in his path, descending western skies are all aglow,Your scattered garlands meet him thereAs floating on the tranquil nymphs arrayed in vestments brightThe nuptials view of Day and Night;And throw on high a crimson arch,Beneath which twilights slowly march. As under sparkling stars I stood Alone at night, in pensive mood The moon above was clear, and bright, And every star a spangled light: While in the distance, here and there, Were veil like clouds—as brides might wear- I listen to my fancys rune. A ship it fashions of the moon; Huge icebergs drifting far to lee In soft, white clouds I seemed to see, I thought the bark with crushing blow Had dashed itself on cra^s below 28. o ;> fl C c c« o t: rt ir. 5 -^ c f — S < — Whereon it threw its silver freight, Whose walls stood trembling with its weight. Oft hunting in my boyhood day, To idly muse the hours away I stretched myself beneath the trees, That hid the sun and cooled the breeze: Low humming tunes with half closed eye, And watching clouds go drifting by For lack of birds upon the trees, I fancied soaring flocks in these. And as I saw them slowly sink On far horizons wooded brink. To hide themselves with weary wing, With winds to rock and softly sing, A fitting cradle I confessed The clouds had found in which to rest. And thus our hearts in dreams prepare These fairy castles of the air. Thou boldest more than rain for all; Not one so poor but he may call Imagination to his aid, And with its help, is quickly made The treasure he may highest prize. If as ye drift athwart the skies. He is a shepherd, would he own The fleecy flocks he tends alone ? He may.
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