The flecks of gold that glorify...

The flecks of gold that glorify The forest floors to loving eye, Withdraw from me,—a splendor lingers On trees of God, in their crowns on high.

And as the arch with stars is sprent, I hear balm-dew from firmament Drip richly from their whispering leafage To soothe the fields to a sweet content.

In bloom of dark they softly stir, Till arrowy dawn the shadow-blur Dispels—God's tingling kiss of morning On oak and maple and pine and fir.