Classic Poem

So while the drowsed earth swooned and slept
Mute holy men their vigils kept,
By twelve and twelve: as light decayed,
They marked through evening's rosy shade,
The curled moon's coming horn,
All stars that fed in silent flock,
And each tossed meteor's back-blown lock.
So watched they from their wind-swept rock,
Betwixt the night and morn.

Slow centuries passed; at last there came
By night a dawn of silver flame,
Whose flower-like heart grew white and round
To a smooth, perfect pearl, with sound
Of music planet-born,
In whose clear disk a fair child lay,
And " Follow me, " was heard to say:
Round him the pale stars fled away
As night before the morn.

Forthwith from morning's crimson gate
The Three Kings rode in morning state
Across Uläi's storied stream,
With westward wistful eyes agleam
As pilgrims westward borne,
They left the tide to sing old deeds,
The stork to plash half-hid in reeds;
A thousand spears, a thousand steeds,
They rode 'twixt night and morn.