Beat all his rapid veins along;
He wrought life's rhythms into song:
He laughed, he sang the Dawn!
So close, so close to life he dwelt
That at rare times and rapt he felt
The fleshly barriers yield and melt;
He trembled, looking on
Creation at her miracles;
His soul-sight pierced the earthly shells
And saw the spirit weave its spells,
The veil of clay withdrawn;--
A little while, with love and youth,
He wandered, singing!

A little while, with age and death,
He wanders, dreaming;--

No more the thunder and the urge
Of earth's full tides that storm the verge
Of heaven with their sweep and surge
Shall lift, shall bear him on;
Where is the golden hope that led
Him comrade with the mighty dead?
The love that aureoled his head?--
The glory is withdrawn!
How shall one soar with broken wings?
The leagued might of futile things
Wars with the heart that dares and sings;--
It is not always Dawn!
A little while, with age and death,