As on a hill-top near the sun
The stars are unseen, every one,
While from its base within the valley
Their festal pomp is e'en now begun;
So lowly lives‘ mid shadows passed
Have higher skies above them massed,
See galaxies and constellations —
The many mansions o'er them englassed.
Encamped am I; earth's not my home.
The glory flashing‘ neath yon dome,
Refusing to be leashed, like music,
Supernal is, and it beckons, Come!