Anxious for my awakening, when I died
I watch great blossoms such as no men dream
Open and close upon that still dark stream.
A certain brilliance seemed to slide and glide
Uncertainly about from side to side,
As if a flower searched for a lost sunbeam,
As if a sunbeam sought its own lost gleam --
And suddenly "The sun and life!" I cried.
When I think back upon it now I sigh.
Those streets, all the harsh edges gone; the bees
Quiet; soft voices; peace where'er I trod;
And only light from sky to spreading sky.
This dream I dreamed surely is shared with me
Still in the long still galleries of God.
First published in The Bulletin, 16 April 1925
