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[75] The pause before the breaking seals
     Of mystery is this;
Yon miracle-play of night and day
     Makes dumb its witnesses.
What unseen altar crowns the hills
     That reach up stair on stair?
What eyes look through, what white wings fan
     These purple veils of air?
What Presence from the heavenly heights
     To those of earth stoops down?
Not vainly Hellas dreamed of gods
     On Ida's snowy crown!

Slow fades the vision of the sky,
     The golden water pales,
And over all the valley-land
     A gray-winged vapor sails.
I go the common way of all;
     The sunset fires will burn,
The flowers will blow, the river flow,
     When I no more return.
No whisper from the mountain pine
     Nor lapsing stream shall tell
The stranger, treading where I tread,
     Of him who loved them well.

But beauty seen is never lost,
     God's colors all are fast;
The glory of this sunset heaven
     Into my soul has passed,
A sense of gladness unconfined
     To mortal date or clime;
As the soul liveth, it shall live
     Beyond the years of time.

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Hellas (1)
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