Page:Scribners Vol 37-1905.djvu/50
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The drowsy East, drugged to unmeaning dreams,
Stirs in her sleep, uncomprehending still
The crescent light, that on the dawn-gilt hill
With the new gospel eloquently gleams:
And the sun passes with reluctant tread
Or these blind lands, and on their gardens lays
Half fearfully, his long, regretful rays,
Like the warm hands of those that touch their dead.
Stirs in her sleep, uncomprehending still
The crescent light, that on the dawn-gilt hill
With the new gospel eloquently gleams:
And the sun passes with reluctant tread
Or these blind lands, and on their gardens lays
Half fearfully, his long, regretful rays,
Like the warm hands of those that touch their dead.