The poem found below, by P. Habberton Fulham, in London _Outlook_,
gives a striking figure that would well symbolize a human experience in
passing from a season of darkness and trouble into one of joy and light:
As some great captain, ere the morn be red,
Might watch his tired ranks sleeping in the dew,
Linger a moment, with some sense of rue,
Then bid réveillé sound o’er quick and dead--
So the loth sun-god leaves his cloudy bed,
Then, swift the heavy hangings striding through,
Bids the dawn’s silver bugles sound anew,
His golden banners streaming overhead--
Like camp-fire smoke the mist of morning stirs,
Like strewed arms seem the dewy glistenings,
And, as that shining clarion peals on high,
Up spring the trees like bright-faced warriors,
Behind him each his cloak of shadow flings,
And one great shout of color shakes the sky! (Text.)
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