. Poems . 250 POEMS. Where constant through the golden airThe tree of Ufe sheds mystic leaf,Which angels to the nations bear,Healing alike their joy and grief. CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN. UT yesterday it was. Long years ago It seems. The world so altered looksto-day That, journeying idly with my thoughts astray,I gazed where rose one lofty peak of snowAbove grand tiers on tiers of peaks moment brief it shone, then sank away,As swift we reached a point where foot-hills laySo near they seemed like mountains huge to touch the sky. That instant, idly eye fell on a printed line,
. Poems . 250 POEMS. Where constant through the golden airThe tree of Ufe sheds mystic leaf,Which angels to the nations bear,Healing alike their joy and grief. CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN. UT yesterday it was. Long years ago It seems. The world so altered looksto-day That, journeying idly with my thoughts astray,I gazed where rose one lofty peak of snowAbove grand tiers on tiers of peaks moment brief it shone, then sank away,As swift we reached a point where foot-hills laySo near they seemed like mountains huge to touch the sky. That instant, idly eye fell on a printed line, and readIncredulous, with sudden anguished thrill,The name of this great queen among the raised my eyes. The dusty foot-hills nearHad gone. Again the snowy peak shone clear. II. Oh ! thou beloved woman, soul and heartAnd life, thou standest unapproached and grand,As still that glorious snowy peak doth dusty barrier our clumsy art. DEDICATION. 251 In terror hath called death holds thee apartFrom us. T is but the low foot-hill of sandWhich bars our vision in a moment further on, and we shall startWith speechless joy to find that we have passedThe dusky mound which shuts us from the lightOf thy great love, still quick and warm and fast,Of thy great strengths, heroically cast,Of thy great soul, still glowing pure and white,Of thy great life, still pauseless, full, and bright! DEDICATION. SAW men kneeling where their hands had broughtAnd fashioned curiously a pile of God they said they gave it, for his own,And that their psalms and prayers had wroughtIts consecration. When, perplexed, I soughtTheir meaning, they but answered with a called my question blasphemy. Alone,In silence of the wilderness, I thoughtAgain. Swift answer came from rock, tree, sod : These puny prayers superfluous rise, and lateThese psalms. When first the world swung out in space,Amid the shoutings of the sons
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