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This open vision has my soul Athrill with silent organ-roll Of immanence divine, and feels it Upgather all in harmonious whole,— Deep waves of God's vast music clear, That pulse one choral atmosphere Of Love's concordant purposes, and Fore-score the song of His golden year.

First will the wind-strewn rose upgather all Her petals from the dust, and cheek by cheek, Hang them new-smiling on the nodding bough!

Forth I creep, When the flowers fall asleep, And upgather odours rare Floating on the misty air, All to be imprisoned where My sap is rising till they reach The swelling twigs, and thence shall each Separate scent be shaken free As my flowers and leaves agree.

Now, stooping, I upgather, one by one, The crimson petals, all Outspread about my fall.