Vision
(Marjorie Picthall)

I have not walked on common ground,
Nor drunk of earthly streams;
A shining figure, mailed and crowned,
oves softly through my dreams.

He makes the air so keen and strange,
Thestars so fiercely bright;
The rocks of time, the tides of change,
Are nothing in his sight.

Death lays no shadow on his smile;
Life is a race fore-run;
Look in his face a little while,
And life and death are one.