It plays upon the glowing sunset boughs,
When shadows have enveloped all below,
And distant, other-worldly thoughts arouse
A passion in the poet’s soul to go
Beyond the earth, beyond the dark’ning sky,
Where only unembodied spirits fly.
It beckons coyly in that certain look
The woodland flower wears in the morning light,
Half-hidden in the shadows, by a brook
Which murmurs gently, as if to invite
The mind in endless beauties to immerse,
Unfolding in its little universe.
It guides by unseen force the flock of birds
That swirls and soars upon the twilight air,
And all that lives and breathes, as if by words
Unspoken, though however unaware,
Yet dance as its mysterious music sways
And with our noblest thoughts of freedom, plays.
And then, it sometimes visits in a form
That haunts like some gigantic destiny;
The dark and threatening beauty of a storm
Whose coming flash of jagged light we see,
Yet feel, as all around the thunder rolls,
A primal freedom sleeping in our souls
.
But most, I see it in another’s eyes,
That sparkle when a thought is born within,
Or fill with tears when holy passions rise
That speak of what could be, or could have been;
And I am in the presence of a force
That is all other earthly Beauty’s source.
Daniel Leach is a poet living in Houston, Texas. He has spent much of his life fighting for the ideals of classical culture and poetry. His volumes of verse, compiling over 20 years of composition, are entitled "Voices on the Wind" and "Places the Soul Goes."