The poem
THOSE delicate wanderers, The wind, the star, the cloud, Ever before mine eyes, As to an altar bowed, Light and dew-laden airs Offer in sacrifice.
The offerings arise: Hazes of rainbow light, Pure crystal, blue, and gold, Through dreamland take their flight; And ’mid the sacrifice God moveth as of old.
In miracles of fire He symbols forth his days; In gleams of crystal light Reveals what pure pathways Lead to the soul’s desire, The silence of the height.