III.

Heaven-flowers, rayed by shadows golden From the palms they sprang beneath, Now perhaps divinely holden, Swing against him in a wreath: We may think so from the quickening of his bloom and of his breath.

Vision unto vision calleth While the young child dreameth on: Fair, O dreamer, thee befalleth With the glory thou hast won! Darker wast thou in the garden yestermorn by summer sun.

We should see the spirits ringing Round thee, were the clouds away: 'T is the child-heart draws them, singing In the silent-seeming clay-- Singing! stars that seem the mutest go in music all the way.

As the moths around a taper, As the bees around a rose, As the gnats around a vapour, So the spirits group and close Round about a holy childhood as if drinking its repose.