His light like a smile come glancing From the cool, cool winds as they pass; From the flowers in heaven dancing And the stars that shine in the grass, And the clouds in deep blue wreathing, And most from the mountains tall, But God like a wind goes breathing A heart-light of gold in all. It grows like a tree and pushes Its way through the inner gloom, And flowers in quick little rushes Of love to a magic bloom. And no one need sigh now or sorrow Whenever the heart-light flies, For it comes again on some morrow And nobody ever dies. The heart of the Wise was beating In the children's heart that day, And many a thought came fleeting, And fancies solemn and gay. They were grave in a way divining How childhood was taking wings, And the wonder world was shining With vast eternal things. The solemn twilight fluttered Like the plumes of seraphim, And they felt what things were uttered In the sunset voice of Him. They lingered long, for dearer Than home were the mountain places Where God from the stars dropt nearer Their pale, dreamy faces. Their very hearts from beating They stilled in awed delight. For Spirit and children were meeting In the purple, ample night. Dusk its ash-grey blossoms sheds on violet skies Over twilight mountains where the heart-songs rise, Rise and fall and fade again from earth to air: Earth renews the music sweeter. Oh, come there. Come, ma cushla, come, as in ancient times Rings aloud and the underland with faery chimes. Down the unseen ways as strays each tinkling fleece Winding ever onward to a fold of peace, So my dreams go straying in a land more fair; Half I tread the dew-wet grasses, half wander there. Fade your glimmering eyes in a world grown cold: Come, ma cushla, with me to the mountain's fold, Where the bright ones call us waving to and fro: Come, my children, with me to the Ancient go. --October 15, 1896 A Dawn Song While the earth is dark and grey How I laugh within: I know In my breast what ardours gay From the morning overflow. Though the cheek be white and wet In my heart no fear may fall: There my chieftain leads, and yet Ancient battle-trumpets call. Bend on me no hasty frown If my spirit slight your cares: Sunlike still my joy looks down Changing tears to beamy airs. Think me not of fickle heart If with joy my bosom swells Though your ways from mine depart: In the true are no farewells. What I love in you I find Everywhere. A friend I greet In each flower and tree and wind-- Oh, but life is sweet, is sweet. What to you are bolts and bars Are to me the hands that guide To the freedom of the stars Where my golden kinsmen bide.