ONE golden flower, the morning star of spring,
Within its mossy bower deep sheltered lies;
One golden cloud, like feather from the wing
Of some colossal bird of paradise,
Fit dweller of the vast o'er-arching skies,
Floats swiftly by, as it might tidings bring
Of light and life returning. Yonder flies
One gilded insect; as in haste to sing,
One thrush from flowering hazel-copse we hear;
Enough for hope—yea, more, enough for faith,
One promise of the glories of heaven's year.
Storms yet may rise; but what God's promise saith
Shall come, and will not tarry. Haste, ye days,
When Christ our Sun shall shine with world-pervading rays.
2.
One flower? Look round they open as we rove,
And that one bird has waked response afar:
One promise? Search again abundant love
Has given abounding store. Our morning star,
Herald of brighter than Hyperion's car,
Rises in silvery dawn, dark clouds above;
Full oft foretold these future glories are; -
From Midian's heights proclaimed by him who strove
Not to declare; to Abraham's joyful sight,
Messiah's day, in amplitude of noon,
In yet unrisen affluence of light.
It comes! it comes! We shall behold it soon;
Death cannot blind us to its beams intense,
Nor the grave hold us when he calls us hence.