The Spirit's Beauty

There is beauty that gleams in the fallen snow,
     As its feathery drifts are piled in light, 
On the giant branch and the slender bough, 
Ere the winds of the north their clarions blow, 
To shake the woods in their mimic show 
     Of the summer's blossoms white.

There is beauty untold in the sunset cloud
     Whose wavy folds o'er the west flung forth, 
By the golden beams of the evening ploughed, 
That flutter and change on the faint day's shroud, 
Seem a banner of love where the bright beings crowd
     Who beckon the spirit from earth.

There is beauty in woodland and valley and plain
     Where music and brightness are joyously
The flowers and the birds, the sunlight and rain
The bright bow of promise unfolding again, 
The broad blue gleam of the meteor's train 
     On the star-writ scroll o'er us bending.

And bright is the glance of the maiden young, 
     As her joy-kindled eyes in their radiance move, 
Like stars shining out from the dark clouds
The midnight of curls o'er her pure brow hung, 
While the viewless chords of the heart are strung
     To the melody of love.

But the Spirit that dwells in our temple of clay 
     Hath a brightness and splendor more lasting than time,
And a holier charm in its beauty than they, 
Where the hand of a God, with a pencil of day, 
Hath written in letters enduring for aye 
     The charter of manhood sublime.

The beauty of earth and its gladness shall end, 
     And the charm that is lost may return to us never,
But purer and fairer the soul shall ascend
Till its glories immortal and dazzling shall blend 
With the brightness of those round the dark throne who bend,
     Adoring for ever and ever.