And its chilling breath of darkness
Marked the hidden prairie tomb.


23

As the soul in deep communion,
Seeks some isolated bower
Where the body's sordid cravings
Yield beneath the spirit's power,
So the searcher, bowed in reverence,
Left untouched his evening fare
As he listened to the voices
Of the shadows gathering there.
Here no lighted torch or camp fire
With its weak and fitful ray,
Could illume the mystic journey
Of prayer's consecrated way.
Here the silence brought its message
Of forebodings, vague and deep,
In its visions to the dreamer,
Through the mystery of sleep.


24

In his dreams he saw a monarch
Decked in sumptuous array,
Seated on a throne of glory,
Bearing royal title, Day.