Prelude

I saw the constellated matin choir Then when they sang together in the dawn,— The morning stars of this first rounded day Hesperian, hundred-houred, that ending leaves Youth’s fillet still upon the New World’s brow; Then when they sang together,—sang for joy Of mount and wood and cataract, and stretch Of keen-aired vasty reaches happy-homed,— I heard the stately hymning, saw their light Resolve in flame that evil long in wrought With what was else the goodliest demain Of freedom warded by the ancient sea; So sang they, rose they, to meridian, And westering down the firmament led on Cluster and train of younger celebrants That beaconed as they might, by adverse skies Shrouded, but stayed not nor discomfited,— Of whom how many, and how dear, alas, The voices stilled mid-orbit, stars eclipsed Long ere the hour of setting; yet in turn Others oncoming shine, nor fail to chant New anthems, yet not alien, for the time Goes not out darkling nor of music mute To the next age,—that quickened now awaits Their heralding, their more impassioned song.