FROM TREE CLOISTER

OUT of the city I came, Heart aflame, Thoughts oblique, confused, amazed; My yester dreamings hurt and dazed With the stifling buildings sweeping high And the towers choking the dingy sky. But I left it all to cross the dune, Hand in hand with the crescent moon. Out of the city I came, Dreams of Fame Dogged me up to my cottage walls, Human passions and powers and thralls Challenged the way I took By the frozen meadow brook; But the hill-top pasture bars Chapelled the winter stars, And their votive candles burned At the gate wherein I turned. Out of the city I came. Father of endless name, Who burn there burn on thy sacred pyre— Burn with the flame of the heart’s desire Toward flame of worthier things, Toward lifting of broader wings; And their purple gift and their scarlet boon I hang on my altars of winter noon. I speak to the brook in its icy shrine, Confess to the tall dark palmer pine, And soft on the country air, I breathe the cities’ prayer.