Dawn from a Western Mountain
By George Sterling
'Twas but a breath ago when ceast
The vibrant moon-flame on the sea,
And now the starry chariots flee
And splendors flood the silent east.
Now, as their wings uplifted gleam
Where sank the standards of the night,
The seven seraphim of light
Bear witness to the Light supreme.
O solemn glories! Rose of fire
And lilies of celestial gold
Their hands shall gather and withhold
To strew upon the sunset-pyre!
What service lies upon the ray!
Now seem the skies the home of God
And earth the Garden where He trod,
Familiar, in the cool of day.
O lone and still! Yet far below
The plush of meadows zoned by dawn
Is trodden by the spotted fawn,
And birds are happy there, I know.
Beauty seems all our eyes may scan;
Yet far away, within those walls
Where now the blessed sunlight falls,
They hang this hour a fellow-man.
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