ABSTRACT
This moment stolen from the centuries, This foretaste of the soul's oblivion We hold and cherish, and because of this Are life and death made perfect, and thy woes Turn lyric through the glory we have won. The morning flower that drew its petals close And slept the cold night through is now unfurled To catch the breathless moment; big and sane Our autumn day forsakes the gates of rose, And like a lion shakes its golden mane
And leaps upon the world.
