TO W.S.B.

    I RAN into the sunset light As hard as I could run： The treetops bowed in sheer delight As if they loved the sun： And all the songs of little birds Who laughed and cried in silver words Were joined as they were one.

    And down the streaming golden sky A lark came circling with a cry Of wonder-weaving joy： And all the arch of heaven rang Where meadowlands of dreaming hang As when I was a boy.

    And through the ringing solitude In pulsing lovely amplitude A mist hung in a shroud, As though the light of loneliness Turned pure delight to holiness, And bathed it in a cloud.

    I stripped my laughing body bare And plunged into that holy air That washed me like a sea, And raced against its silver tide That stroked my eager glancing side And made my spirit free.

    Across the limits of the land The wind and I swept hand and hand Beyond the golden glow. We danced across the ocean plain Like thrushes singing in the rain A song of long ago.

    And on into the silver night We strove to win the race with light And bring the vision home, And bring the wonder home again Unto the sleeping eyes of men Across the singing foam.

    And down the river of the world Our glowing, limbs in glory swirled As spring within a flower, And stars in music of delight Streamed gayly down our shoulders white Like petals in a shower.

    And tears of awful wonder ran Adown my cheeks to hear the clan Of beauty chaunting white The prayer too deep for living word, Or sight of man or winging bird, Or music over forest heard At falling of the night.

    And dropping slowly as the dew On grasses that the winds renew In urge of flooding fire, And softly as the hushing boughs The gentle airs of dawn arouse To cradle morning's quire.

    The murmur of the singing leaves Around the secret Flame, Like mating swallows 'neath the eaves In rustling silence came, And flowing through the silent air Creation fluttered in a prayer Descending on a spiral stair, And calling me by name. It nestled in my dreaming eyes Like heaven in a lake, And softened hope into surprise For very beauty's sake, And silence blossomed into morn, Whose fragrant rosy-breasted dawn Could scarcely bear to break.

    I sang into the morning light As loud as I could sing, The treetops bowed in sheer delight Before the slanting wing. And all the songs of little birds Who laughed and cried in silver words Adored the Risen Spring. EDWARD J. O'BRIEN