Where there is no vision, the people perish.—Proverbs.
There is a peak past yonder hills I fain would reach.
An unsung, joyous chord of music I would sing;
The thundering of breakers on a broader beach
I fain would hear, and greet a longer, greener spring.
Yet well I know when lies that peak beneath my feet,
Legions of higher, snowier heights beyond will rise;
When gushes from my heart that chord surpassing sweet,
New strains will lure like sudden stars in twilight skies;
The heavy surge I long to hear will die away.
Lost in a deeper, grander surge; and that long lease
Of bloom will whisper softly of another May
Where flowers are fairer and perpetual is peace.
Thus at the urge of golden longing, on I go,
Hailing in every vision won a vision higher,
Learning that with my growth my visions mightier grow,
Till Love's full heaven I win—the ultimate desire.
