The Seer by George William Russell
OH, if my spirit may foretell
Or earlier impart,
It is because I always dwell
With morning in my heart.
I feel the keen embrace of light
Ere dawning on the view
It sprays the chilly fold of night
With iridescent dew.
The robe of dust around it cast
Hides not the earth below,
Its heart of ruby flame, the vast
Mysterious gloom and glow.
Something beneath yon coward gaze
Betrays the royal line;
Its lust and hate, but errant rays,
Are at their root divine.
I hail the light of elder years
Behind the niggard mould,
The fiery kings, the seraph seers,
As in the age of gold.
And all about and through the gloom
Breaths from the golden clime
Are wafted like a sweet perfume
From some most ancient time.