The pagan
- So here are you, and here am I,
- Where we may thank our gods to be;
- Above the earth, beneath the sky,
- Naked souls alive and free.
- The autumn wind goes rustling by
- And stirs the stubble at our feet;
- Out of the west it whispering blows,
- Stops to caress and onward goes,
- Bringing its earthy odours sweet.
- See with what pride the the setting sun
- Kinglike in gold and purple dies,
- And like a robe of rainbow spun
- Tinges the earth with shades divine.
- That mystic light is in your eyes
- And ever in your heart will shine.
1918.
- --oOo-- -