As on a hill-top near the sun...

As on a hill-top near the sun . . . . . . . . . . . The stars are unseen, every one, While from its base within the valley Their festal pomp is e'en now begun;

So lowly lives 'mid shadows passed Have higher skies above them massed, See galaxies and constellations— The many mansions o'er them englassed.

Encamped am I; earth's not my home. The glory flashing 'neath yon dome, Refusing to be leashed, like music, Supernal is, and it beckons, Come!