POEMS
To what high aëry choiring
This hour her way is winging,
Her dewy troth to plight?
This golden hour aspiring
Above the glad bells ringing,
More sweet than sweet birds' music, more fleet than fleet birds' flight?
This hour her way is winging,
Her dewy troth to plight?
This golden hour aspiring
Above the glad bells ringing,
More sweet than sweet birds' music, more fleet than fleet birds' flight?
What joy and hope here clinging,
With gentle fingers twining;
In wrapt and mystic rite?
What love unblind is bringing
Two mortals swift and shining,
With faces to the morning, with footsteps from the night?
With gentle fingers twining;
In wrapt and mystic rite?
What love unblind is bringing
Two mortals swift and shining,
With faces to the morning, with footsteps from the night?
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY WOODS AND SONS, LTD., LONDON, N. 1.
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