What is the blue of the sky? It cannot be Thy mantle,
For things corruptible are naught to the Almighty,
But when on its calm beauty we rest our tired eyes
There comes the blessed solace of quick tears.

At close of day, painted with flaming clouds,
The sky is a dread vision of the City of the Lost,
And at dead of night it broods with such veiled mystery
That we must fain prostrate ourselves before it.

The calm blue of the morning is a sign of Thy omnipotence!
For this hast Thou created its pure beauty,
For this hast Thou permitted the arts of man
To penetrate its depths—and for this, O God!
I crave that some day in my sad and restless life
Blue eyes may shine upon me with the love of woman.