JOHN JAMES PIATT. READING THE MILESTONE. I STOPPED to read the milestone here, A finger, westward, cut in stone: Across the dust and distance shown. Around me lay the farms asleep In hazes of autumnal air, I read the milestone, day by day: To walk the new Enchanted Below, a violet in the dew THE GOLDEN HAND. Lo, from the city's heat and dust I see it when the morning brings Breathed through the dark its And the great world awakes: behold, vague perfume; Above, a star in quiet blue Touched with a gracious ray the gloom. That lifted hand ir. morning gold! I see it when the noontide beats Pulses of fire in busy streets; The dust flies in the flaming air: "Sing, friend, of me," the violet Above, that quiet hand is there. sighed, "That I may haunt your grave with love;" "Sing, friend, of me," the star replied, "That I may light the dark above." THE SIGHT OF ANGELS. THE angels come, the angels go, Through open doors of purer air; I see it when the twilight clings To the dark earth with hovering wings: Flashing with the last fluttering ray, The midnight comes- the holy hour: |