GREY dawn—and lucent star that slowly paled Beyond the breaking splendour of the years, When boyhood’s heart looked up to heaven, through tears Of joy, to see the glory of God unveiled: High noon—and bridal earth, whose footsteps failed For very love—when passionate hopes and fears Dazzled the flowers, made music in the ears, And through the trancéd wood their splendour trailed. Calm eventide—afar the lonely west Dreams of the wondrous day, and dreaming, lies With folded hands, still lips, and weary eyes Searching the shadows of eternal rest: Childhood, and youth, and age—for each a prize, Faith—Love—and Death—I know not which is best.

zahida