MAGICTO W.S.B.I ran into the sunset lightAs hard as I could run:The treetops bowed in sheer delightAs if they loved the sun:And all the songs of little birdsWho laughed and cried in silver wordsWere joined as they were one.And down the streaming golden skyA lark came circling with a cryOf wonder-weaving joy:And all the arch of heaven rangWhere meadowlands of dreaming hangAs when I was a boy.And through the ringing solitudeIn pulsing lovely amplitudeA mist hung in a shroud,As though the light of lonelinessTurned pure delight to holiness,And bathed it in a cloud.I stripped my laughing body bareAnd plunged into that holy airThat washed me like a sea,And raced against its silver tideThat stroked my eager glancing sideAnd made my spirit free.Across the limits of the landThe wind and I swept hand and handBeyond the golden glow.We danced across the ocean plainLike thrushes singing in the rainA song of long ago.And on into the silver nightWe strove to win the race with lightAnd bring the vision home,And bring the wonder home againUnto the sleeping eyes of menAcross the singing foam.And down the river of the worldOur glowing, limbs in glory swirledAs spring within a flower,And stars in music of delightStreamed gayly down our shoulders whiteLike petals in a shower.And tears of awful wonder ranAdown my cheeks to hear the clanOf beauty chaunting whiteThe prayer too deep for living word,Or sight of man or winging bird,Or music over forest heardAt falling of the night.And dropping slowly as the dewOn grasses that the winds renewIn urge of flooding fire,And softly as the hushing boughsThe gentle airs of dawn arouseTo cradle morning’s quire.The murmur of the singing leavesAround the secret Flame,Like mating swallows ’neath the eavesIn rustling silence came,And flowing through the silent airCreation fluttered in a prayerDescending on a spiral stair,And calling me by name.It nestled in my dreaming eyesLike heaven in a lake,And softened hope into surpriseFor very beauty’s sake,And silence blossomed into morn,Whose fragrant rosy-breasted dawnCould scarcely bear to break.I sang into the morning lightAs loud as I could sing,The treetops bowed in sheer delightBefore the slanting wing.And all the songs of little birdsWho laughed and cried in silver wordsAdored the Risen Spring.EDWARD J. O’BRIEN
I ran into the sunset lightAs hard as I could run:The treetops bowed in sheer delightAs if they loved the sun:And all the songs of little birdsWho laughed and cried in silver wordsWere joined as they were one.And down the streaming golden skyA lark came circling with a cryOf wonder-weaving joy:And all the arch of heaven rangWhere meadowlands of dreaming hangAs when I was a boy.And through the ringing solitudeIn pulsing lovely amplitudeA mist hung in a shroud,As though the light of lonelinessTurned pure delight to holiness,And bathed it in a cloud.I stripped my laughing body bareAnd plunged into that holy airThat washed me like a sea,And raced against its silver tideThat stroked my eager glancing sideAnd made my spirit free.Across the limits of the landThe wind and I swept hand and handBeyond the golden glow.We danced across the ocean plainLike thrushes singing in the rainA song of long ago.And on into the silver nightWe strove to win the race with lightAnd bring the vision home,And bring the wonder home againUnto the sleeping eyes of menAcross the singing foam.And down the river of the worldOur glowing, limbs in glory swirledAs spring within a flower,And stars in music of delightStreamed gayly down our shoulders whiteLike petals in a shower.And tears of awful wonder ranAdown my cheeks to hear the clanOf beauty chaunting whiteThe prayer too deep for living word,Or sight of man or winging bird,Or music over forest heardAt falling of the night.And dropping slowly as the dewOn grasses that the winds renewIn urge of flooding fire,And softly as the hushing boughsThe gentle airs of dawn arouseTo cradle morning’s quire.The murmur of the singing leavesAround the secret Flame,Like mating swallows ’neath the eavesIn rustling silence came,And flowing through the silent airCreation fluttered in a prayerDescending on a spiral stair,And calling me by name.It nestled in my dreaming eyesLike heaven in a lake,And softened hope into surpriseFor very beauty’s sake,And silence blossomed into morn,Whose fragrant rosy-breasted dawnCould scarcely bear to break.I sang into the morning lightAs loud as I could sing,The treetops bowed in sheer delightBefore the slanting wing.And all the songs of little birdsWho laughed and cried in silver wordsAdored the Risen Spring.
EDWARD J. O’BRIEN