For God hath planted in the hearts of men
The love of change, and sown the seeds of change
In earth and air and sea and shoreless space.
Day follows night and night the dying day,
And every day--and every hour--is change;
From when on dewy hills the rising dawn
Sprinkles her mists of silver in the east,
Till in the west the golden dust up-wheels
Behind the chariot of the setting sun;
From when above the hills the evening star
Sparkles a diamond 'mong the grains of gold,
Until her last faint flicker on the sea.
The voices of the hoar and hurrying years
Cry from the silence--"Change!--perpetual Change!"
Man's heart responding throbs--"Perpetual Change,"
And grinds like a mill-stone: wanting grists of change
It grinds and grinds upon its troubled self.
Behold the flowers that spring and bloom and fade.
Behold the blooming maid: the song of larks
Is in her warbling throat; the blue of heaven
Is in her eyes; her loosened tresses fall
A shower of gold on shoulders tinged with rose;
Her form a seraph's and her gladsome face
A benediction. Lo beneath her feet
The loving crocus bursts in sudden bloom.
Fawn-eyed and full of gentleness she moves--
A sunbeam on the lawn.
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