t way
Has quiet on his face.

And every man must rise and leave
His pleasant homely door
To vanish through this silent gate
And enter in no more--

Yet--once--I saw its opening throw
A brighter light about
And glimpsed strange glory on the brow
Of someone passing out!

I wonder if Outside may be
One fair and great demesne
Where both gates open, careless of
The Town that lies between?

On the Mountain

THE top of the world and an empty morning,
Mist sweeping in from the dim Outside,
The door of day just a little bit open--
The wind's great laugh as he flings it wide!

O wind, here's one who would travel with you
To the far bourne you alone may know--
There would I seek what some one is hiding,
There would I find where my longings go!

To some deep calm would I drift and nestle
Close to the heart of the Great Surprise.
O strong wind, do you laugh to see us?
We are so little and oh, so wise!

The Prophet

HE trod upon the heights; the rarer air
Which common people seek, yet cannot bear,
Fed his high soul and kindled in his eye
The fire of one who cries "I prophesy!"

"Look up!" he said. They looked but could not see.
"Help us!" they cried. He strove, but uselessly--
The very clouds which veiled the heaven they sought
Hid from his eyes the hearts of them he taught!

Give Me a Day

GIVE me a day, beloved, that I may set
A jewel in my heart--I'll brave regret,
If, on the morrow, you shall say "forget"!

One golden day when dawn shall blush to noon
And noon incline to dark, and, oversoon,
My joy lie buried 'neath a rounded moon.

Only a day--it's worth you scarce could tell
From other days; but in my life 'twill dwell
An oasis with palm trees and a well!

Little Brown Bird

O LITTLE brown bird in the rain,
In the sweet rain of spring,
How you carry the youth of the world
In the bend of your wing!
For you the long day is for song
And the night is for sleep--
With never a sunrise too soon
Or a midnight too deep!

For you every pool is the sky,
Breaking clouds chasing through,--
A heaven so instant and near
That you bathe in its blue!--
And yours is the freedom to rise
To some song-haunted star
Or sink on soft wing to the wood
Where your brown nestlings are.

So busy, so strong and so glad,
So care-free and young,
So tingling with life to be lived
And with songs to be sung,
O little brown bird!--with your he