Poems (Eckley)/The Path
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HERE is a path, whose radiant trail
Unwinds from worlds supreme,
And up and down the noiseless feet
Pass as in Jacob's dream.
THE PATH.
"Are they not all ministering spirits?"TO H. B. S.
HERE is a path, whose radiant trailUnwinds from worlds supreme,
And up and down the noiseless feet
Pass as in Jacob's dream.
To some a golden street it seems,
To some a silver thread;
Alas! to most, a long dark bridge
Swung o'er a sea of dead.
To some a silver thread;
Alas! to most, a long dark bridge
Swung o'er a sea of dead.
To me how dear that shining path,
Adown whose glittering way,
I see the loved, the shadowy forms
Of those who've passed away.
Adown whose glittering way,
I see the loved, the shadowy forms
Of those who've passed away.
Their shining garments as they float,
Gild the dim earthly air;
I see the radiance of their crowns,
I breathe the palms they bear.
Gild the dim earthly air;
I see the radiance of their crowns,
I breathe the palms they bear.
Florence, 1861.