Sagas of Vaster Britain: Poems of the Race, the Empire and the Divinity of Man

by William Wilfred Campbell




THOU god of all the golden-footed hours!
    Dwelling ’twixt the dewy night and day:
Hidden deep in rosy budding bowers,
    Where the young winds from yesternight astray
    Wander, and faint and waver, and sweetly lose their way.

O happy! happy! never to know the heat,
    The toil and sweat and groan of burning noon;
The fever and the ache; the wearied feet
    Of those who moan beneath the sun and moon,
    Sad children of this earth and all its bitter boon.

O happy! happy! never canst thou know
    The sorrow and the sad despairs of age,
The cares of life, the madness, and the slow,
    Iron-eating thoughts, the bitter wars that wage,
    The storm and stress and woe of all who faint and rage.

O happy! happy! hid from all that pains;—
    For thee this earth is ever one glad hour
Of loveliness, where Youth for ever reigns,
    Where Beauty, for ever waking from her bower,
    Blossoms her azure hopes in flood and sky and flower.

Never to know the weariness of night,
    The loneliness of eve and all its woes,
The shrouding dark, the pallor, the fading light; —
    About thy realm a golden glory glows,
    Hedging for ever thy halls with heaven’s rosy snows.