O days most beautiful, wherein I fare
In sweet tranquillity, through lowly ways,
Nor know, nor care,
Whereto the journey tends, since evermore
Mine angel goes before.
Red-gold the sun, at dusk of morn and eve,
Touches with fire
Both common window-pane and distant spire.
Forevermore, my heart, forevermore,
Love's beam transforms what else were cold and gray
Since evermore, alway,
Mine angel goes before.
In midnight silences and blatant noons,
Unhurriedly I pass
Through sullied city streets, o'er churchyard grass,
And stony highways stretching far and wide
(It is as though still waters lay beside),
And warrings cease;
The voice of weeping stills; forevermore
Mine angel goes before.
