“In the grey summer garden I shall find you   

With day-break and the morning hills behind you.   

There will be rain-wet roses; stir of wings;   

And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings.   

Not from the past you’ll come, but from that deep

Where beauty murmurs to the soul asleep:   

And I shall know the sense of life re-born   

From dreams into the mystery of morn   

Where gloom and brightness meet. And standing there   

Till that calm song is done, at last we’ll share

The league-spread, quiring symphonies that are   

Joy in the world, and peace, and dawn’s one star.”