Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/68

To free the music of their harmony.
There's nought so lonely in the world of change
But 't is the prison of these concords sweet
When hearts shall find them; therefore to the boy
Trifles are often rich in miracle;
Doubt not his treasure; rather doubt thy own.
The finding of the bird was more to me
Than the rich coffer of the earth all gems,
Than Rome's tiara to the shaking brow,
Than continents of gold to voyaging kings;
My whisper of the yonder world, my thought
Of the far country and the over-seas—
'O whence? O whence?' I asked, and beautiful
It cleft the frowning walls, and entered light,
And came again, the warm sun on its wings,
And clasped with rosy feet my tender hands,
And shared my poverty and brought its heaven.
⁠The months rolled on and swelled the young tree's girth;
The autumn blew and stripped the last year's vines;
The stars of winter dropped their shining strength;
The wild spring came; and as the mists of morn
Upon the azure marches far away
Build towers of vantage over distant lands,
So by the spirit's breath my thoughts were driven,

And on the soul's horizons, round and round,