FAINT grew the yellow buds of light <br />Far flickering beyond the snows, <br />As leaning o’er the shadowy white <br />Morn glimmered like a pale primrose. <br /> <br />Within an Indian vale below <br />A child said “OM” with tender heart, <br />Watching with loving eyes the glow <br />In dayshine fade and night depart. <br /> <br />The word which Brahma at his dawn <br />Outbreathes and endeth at his night, <br />Whose tide of sound so rolling on <br />Gives birth to orbs of pearly light; <br /> <br />And beauty, wisdom, love, and youth, <br />By its enchantment gathered grow <br />In agelong wandering to the Truth, <br />Through many a cycle’s ebb and flow. <br /> <br />And here the voice of earth was stilled, <br />The child was lifted to the Wise: <br />A strange delight his spirit filled, <br />And Brahm looked from his shining eyes.<br /><br />George William Russell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-memory-4/
