BIRTHDAY ODE.
127
Bright round the brows of banished age had shone ant. 12
In vision flushed with truth
The rosy glory of youth
On streets and woodlands where in days long gone460
Sweet love sang light and loud and deep and dear:
And far the trumpets of the dreadful year
Had pealed and wailed in darkness: last arose
The song of children, kindling as a rose
At breath of sunrise, born
Of the red flower of morn
Whose face perfumes deep heaven with odorous light
And thrills all through the wings of souls in flight
Close as the press of children at His knee
Whom if the high priest see,470
