He.

As to this, nothing to tell, You being all my belief; Doubt may not enter or dwell Here where your image is chief,

Royal, to quicken or quell, Swaying no sceptre of grief. Wise with the wisdom of Spring — Dew-drops, a world in each prism,

Gems from the universe ring:— Free of all creed and all schism, Buds that are speechless but bring God-uttered God aphorism.

See how the synod is met There of the planets to preach us — Freed from the frost's oubliette, Here how the flowers beseech us —

Were it not well to forget Winter and night as they teach us? Dew-drop, a bud, and a star, These — each a separate thought

Over man's logic how far!— God to a unit hath wrought — Love, making these what they are, For without love they were naught.

Millions of stars; and they roll Over your path that is white, Here where we end the long stroll.— Seen of the innermost sight,

All of the love of my soul Kisses your spirit. Good-night.