The Fourth Day

As when the tideless, barren waters lay About the borders of the early earth; And small, unopened buds dreamt not the worth Of their incomparable gold array; And tall young hemlocks were not set a-sway By any wind; and orchards knew no mirth At Autumn time, nor plenteousness from dearth; And night and morning, then, were the first day, --Even so was I. Yet, as I slept last night, My soul surged towards thy love's controlling power; And, quickened now with the sun's splendid might, Breaks into unimaginable flower, Knowing thy soul knows this for beacon-light-- The culmination of the harvest hour.