WHERE the peace of even lies,
And the low’ring purples rest,
Under amethystine skies,
Is the mystery of the West.
In the colour-blending shroud
Of the glories of the heat,
Where the myriad tones of cloud
Glow and fade in their retreat,
There the soul of peace lies still,
In the secret of the eve,
In the shadows of the hill,
Where the colours spin and weave
All the textures for the skies,
All the yearnings of the heart,
All the gleams in lovely eyes—
In the wonder-colour part
Lies the soul of peace. And thou!
Dearest mystery of my life,
With thy colours me endow,
In the murk and gloom of strife.
Radiant! Clothe me in thy soul—
Sanctuary of my rest.
Let thy mingling colours roll,
Deep, around me in thy West.