On a Hill-top
BEARDED with dewy grass the mountains thrust
Their blackness high into the still grey light,
Deepening to blue: far up the glimmering height
In silver transience shines the starry dust.
Silent the sheep about me; fleece by fleece
They sleep and stir not: I with awe around
Wander uncertain o’er the giant mound,
A fire that moves between their peace and peace.
The city myriads dream or sleep below;
Aloft another day has but begun:
Under the radiance of the Midnight Sun
The Tree of Life put forth its leaves to grow.
Wiser than they below who dream or sleep?
I know not; but their day is dream to me,
And in their darkness I awake to see
A Thought that moves like light within the deep.
Only from dream to dream our spirits pass:
Well, let us rise and fly from sphere to sphere;
Some one of all unto the light more near
Mirrors the Dreamer in its glowing glass.
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