Dawn from a Western Mountain

By George Sterling

'Twas but a breath ago when ceast
    The vibrant moon-flame on the sea,
    And now the starry chariots flee
And splendors flood the silent east.

Now, as their wings uplifted gleam
    Where sank the standards of the night,
    The seven seraphim of light
Bear witness to the Light supreme.

O solemn glories! Rose of fire
    And lilies of celestial gold
    Their hands shall gather and withhold
To strew upon the sunset-pyre!

What service lies upon the ray!
    Now seem the skies the home of God
    And earth the Garden where He trod,
Familiar, in the cool of day.

O lone and still! Yet far below
    The plush of meadows zoned by dawn
    Is trodden by the spotted fawn,
And birds are happy there, I know.

Beauty seems all our eyes may scan;
    Yet far away, within those walls
    Where now the blessed sunlight falls,
They hang this hour a fellow-man.

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