An Improvisation

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An Improvisation

The stars cleave the sky.

Yet for us they rest,

And their race-course high

Is a shining nest!

The hours hurry on.

But where is thy flight,

Soft pavilion

Of motionless night?

Earth gives up her trees

To the holy air;

They live in the breeze;

They are saints at prayer!

Summer night, come from God,

On your beauty, I see,

A still wave has flowed

Of eternity!