Books must follow sciences, and not sciences books.
by George William Russell
YOU remember, dear, together
Two children, you and I,
Sat once in the autumn weather,
Watching the autumn sky.
There was some one round us straying
The whole of the long day through,
Who seemed to say, “I am playing
At hide and seek with you.”
And one thing after another
Was whispered out of the air,
How God was a big, kind brother
Whose home is in everywhere.
His light like a smile comes glancing
Through the cool, cool winds as they pass,
From the flowers in heaven dancing
To the stars that shine in the grass.
From the clouds in deep blue wreathing
And most from the mountains tall,
But God like a wind goes breathing
A dream of Himself in all.
The heart of the Wise was beating
Sweet, sweet, in our hearts that day:
And many a thought came fleeting
And fancies solemn and gay.
We were grave in our way divining
How childhood was taking wings,
And the wonder world was shining
With vast eternal things.
The solemn twilight fluttered
Like the plumes of seraphim,
And we felt what things were uttered
In the sunset voice of Him.
We lingered long, for dearer
Than home were the mountain places
Where God from the stars dropt nearer
Our pale, dreamy faces.
Our very hearts from beating
We stilled in awed delight,
For spirit and children were meeting
In the purple, ample night.