Adam arose at the word of God,
Up-borne on the bosom of all the earth;
Brother of trees and the black, prone sod;
The same in death and the same in birth.

Is it divine, the mystery?
Is the whisper true of the hidden word
That sounds for some in hill and sea,
In the lapse of life when the deeps are heard?

The sunlight lifts in the soul of man
The white-light torch of another dawn;
And love will finger a mystic span,
When the chords are drawn.