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[342] Yet not the less, when once the vision passed,
     He held the plain and sober maxims fast
Of the dear Friends with whom his lot was cast.

Still all attuned to nature's melodies,
     He loved the bird's song in his dooryard trees,
And the low hum of home-returning bees;

The blossomed flax, the tulip-trees in bloom
     Down the long street, the beauty and perfume
Of apple-boughs, the mingling light and gloom

Of Sommerhausen's woodlands, woven through
     With sun—threads; and the music the wind drew,
Mournful and sweet, from leaves it overblew.

And evermore, beneath this outward sense,
     And through the common sequence of events,
He felt the guiding hand of Providence

Reach out of space. A Voice spake in his ear,
     And lo! all other voices far and near
Died at that whisper, full of meanings clear.

The Light of Life shone round him; one by one
     The wandering lights, that all-misleading run,
Went out like candles paling in the sun.

That Light he followed, step by step, where'er
     It led, as in the vision of the seer
The wheels moved as the spirit in the clear

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Providence, R. I. (Rhode Island, United States) (1)

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