  Come back, Little Katharines, still for a time to our glamour-world, Ere our ship’s prow touches the daylight shore, And her sails are furled. The sun has gone on his way o’er the mountain’s rim; The mighty Earth-shadow creeps slowly up from the East, And the heavens grow dim. See, in the soft gloaming the stars steal forth into sight, Till over the dun Earth-plain broods the deep blue vault Of the jeweled night. They are there, dear hearts; each one of our Star Folk blest Faithful and motionless stands, borne on by the firmament’s Ceaseless roll to the West. They listen, they wait, expectant. For what? In the vast, Deep hush of the night their heart-beats throb in the stars. At last,— In the Northern heavens a gleam of wavering light Floats upward—dies. Then again—pulsing up, ever stronger, More bright. With the first, faint gleam, a shadow of sound—a sigh As a breath over harp-strings—sets trembling the stars As it passes through Earth and Sky. (Too fine for our bodily ears, little sisters, but clear You shall hear!) Fuller toned now, and deeper, as broadening pennons of light Uprush from below the horizon; the heavens are alive— Filled with splendor the night! What do the Star People see that is hid from our eyes, Where the ramparts of hills rise black in the North ’Gainst the flame of the skies? Ranks beyond ranks of radiant Spirits! They stand In dazzling circles;—a golden censer swinging From each one’s hand. From the Shining Ones’ censers, soft swinging, there float and ascend Streams of pure radiance; and one with their rhythm, the deep Swelling harmonies blend. Like music heard faintly in dreams—first afar—it draws near, Till the triumphant chant sweeps into the Star People’s hearts; Then, joyous and clear:— “The Heavens declare the glory—” There follows a gush, A bursting in spray of the sound, as it pours like a wave In its o’erwhelming rush! The splendor ineffable blinds them; their hearts fill with awe And reverence—they know not for what; all the Power that they know Is their Law. Whose glory all Creation sings; and shall be While the Ages run! “Might, Power, Dominion—” Still the censers swing; The Heavens declare, in light upsurging still, The glory of the King. May not the Star Folk, little sisters mine, Faint shadows though they be—and still obedient To Law divine— Declare His glory, Whom they may not know; And in the Northern Lights His worship see, As we below? The Riverside Press CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A |
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