On A Hill-Top

Bearded with dewy grass the mountains thrust

Their blackness high into the still grey light,

Deepening to blue: far up the glimmering height

In silver transience shines the starry dust.

Silent the sheep about me; fleece by fleece

They sleep and stir not: I with awe around

Wander uncertain o'er the giant mound,

A fire that moves between their peace and peace.

The city myriads dream or sleep below;

Aloft another day has but begun:

Under the radiance of the Midnight Sun

The Tree of Life put forth its leaves to grow.

Wiser than they below who dream or sleep?

I know not; but their day is dream to me,

And in their darkness I awake to see

A Thought that moves like light within the deep.

Only from dream to dream our spirits pass.

Well, let us rise and fly from sphere to sphere;

Some one of all unto the light more near

Mirrors the Dreamer in its glowing glass.