The hemlocks grew, clothed in dark-robed dreams, Their silent brooding spaces called to me To follow a winding path by laughing streams That spoke in tongues of ancient mystery.
The feel of peat upon the forest floor And silence broken by a winged call Revealed to me a closed and hidden door To wonder that a child-soul might befall.
Partaker of the gifts of centuries, Never to feel a poverty of heart Embraced by soaring miracles as these A soul entranced, from other lives apart.
Fifty years have flown since those bright days When first I heard the rapture-song abroad The verdant fields, the mystic shores and bays Where life and spirit nodded in accord.
The language of the earth we must redeem, Attune our ears to vibratory sounds, Our eyes to see beyond the knowing gleam Of mind caught in the cycle of its rounds.
A wider consciousness is dwelling here Upon this earth we readily despoil, Among all worlds ours to revere Where lies the answer to our age long toil,
A destiny where death has lost his rule And matter pulses with divinity Unveiled and man no longer evil's tool Shall realize his immortality.
Poems Undated (1727)
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