Moving Through The Dew
I
Moving
through
the
dew,
moving
through
the
dew,
Ere
I
waken
in
the
city—Life,
thy
dawn
makes
all
things
new!
And
up
a
fir-clad
glen,
far
from
all
the
haunts
of
men,
Up
a
glen
among
the
mountains,
oh
my
feet
are
wings
again!
Moving
through
the
dew,
moving
through
the
dew,
O
mountains
of
my
boyhood,
I
come
again
to
you,
By
the
little
path
I
know,
with
the
sea
far
below,
And
above,
the
great
cloud-galleons
with
their
sails
of
rose
and
snow
As
of
old,
when
all
was
young,
and
the
earth
a
song
unsung
And
the
heather
through
the
crimson
dawn
its
Eden
incense
flung
From
the
mountain-heights
of
joy,
for
a
careless-hearted
boy,
And
the
lavrocks
rose
like
fountain
sprays
of
bliss
that
ne’er
could
cloy,
From
their
little
beds
of
bloom,
from
the
golden
gorse
and
broom,
With
a
song
to
God
the
Giver,
o’er
that
waste
of
wild
perfume;
Blowing
from
height
to
height,
in
a
glory
of
great
light,
While
the
cottage-clustered
valleys
held
the
lilac
last
of
night,
So,
when
dawn
is
in
the
skies,
in
a
dream,
a
dream,
I
rise,
And
I
follow
my
lost
boyhood
to
the
heights
of
Paradise.
Life,
thy
dawn
makes
all
things
new!
Hills
of
Youth,
I
come
to
you,
Moving
through
the
dew,
moving
through
the
dew.
II
Moving
through
the
dew,
moving
through
the
dew,
Floats
a
brother’s
face
to
meet
me!
Is
it
you?
Is
it
you?
For
the
night
I
leave
behind
keeps
these
dazzled
eyes
still
blind!
But
oh,
the
little
hill-flowers,
their
scent
is
wise
and
kind;
And
I
shall
not
lose
the
way
from
the
darkness
to
the
day,
While
dust
can
cling
as
their
scent
clings
to
memory
for
aye;
And
the
least
link
in
the
chain
can
recall
the
whole
again,
And
heaven
at
last
resume
its
far-flung
harvests,
grain
by
grain.
To
the
hill-flowers
clings
my
dust,
and
tho’
eyeless
Death
may
thrust
All
else
into
the
darkness,
in
their
heaven
I
put
my
trust;
And
a
dawn
shall
bid
me
climb
to
the
little
spread
of
thyme
Where
first
I
heard
the
ripple
of
the
fountain-heads
of
rhyme.
And
a
fir-wood
that
I
know,
from
dawn
to
sunset-glow,
Shall
whisper
to
a
lonely
sea,
that
swings
far,
far
below.
Death,
thy
dawn
makes
all
things
new.
Hills
of
Youth,
I
come
to
you,
Moving
through
the
dew,
moving
through
the
dew.
