Idyll

 In the grey summer garden I shall find you 
With day-break and the morning hills behind you.
 
There will be rain-wet roses; stir of wings; 
And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings.
 
Not from the past you’ll come, but from that deep
Where beauty murmurs to the soul asleep: 
And I shall know the sense of life re-born 
From dreams into the mystery of morn 
Where gloom and brightness meet.
 And standing there 
Till that calm song is done, at last we’ll share
The league-spread, quiring symphonies that are 
Joy in the world, and peace, and dawn’s one star.

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