. Poems . he brinkOf each new age of great eternity, I think,After the ages have all countless souls will poise and launch with eager blessedness already sweet impatience for Gods next good thing. BELATED. N a September day I cameSeeking that flower of sweetest nameOf all, from which the lavish JuneWith boundless fragrance fills the noon,In woods where her best blossoms hide. O sweet Twin-Flower ! I longing cried,Hopeless but eager, is there stillOne tiny pink bell left? And willThy guardian fairy condescendTo guide my feet, that I may bend,In reverent and fo

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. Poems . he brinkOf each new age of great eternity, I think,After the ages have all countless souls will poise and launch with eager blessedness already sweet impatience for Gods next good thing. BELATED. N a September day I cameSeeking that flower of sweetest nameOf all, from which the lavish JuneWith boundless fragrance fills the noon,In woods where her best blossoms hide. O sweet Twin-Flower ! I longing cried,Hopeless but eager, is there stillOne tiny pink bell left? And willThy guardian fairy condescendTo guide my feet, that I may bend,In reverent and fond delight,Once more at the transcendent sight? The spicy woods were still and cool;In many a little mossy poolBright leaves were floating round and round;The partridge mothers watchful sound,The sighs of dying leaves that all that broke the silent mats and tangles everywhere,The Twin-Flower vines lay, green and fair,With subtle beauty all their own,Wreathing each hillock and each stone,.

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Keywords: ., bookauthorjacksonh, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookyear1892