And on our old, old plains some muddy stream,
Dark as the Ganges, shall, like that strange tide --
(Whispering mystery to half the earth) --
Gather the praying millions to its side,

And flow past halls with statues in white stone
To saints unborn to-day, whose lives of grace
Shall make one shining, universal church
Where all Faiths kneel, as brothers, in one place.




The Wedding of the Rose and the Lotos



The wide Pacific waters
And the Atlantic meet.
With cries of joy they mingle,
In tides of love they greet.
Above the drowned ages
A wind of wooing blows: --
The red rose woos the lotos,
The lotos woos the rose . . .

The lotos conquered Egypt.
The rose was loved in Rome.
Great India crowned the lotos: