Gold Unmined
A spark of light does yonder climb,
And there, as wolves oft claim your hill,
Will seize the land, and round this time
A sliver cuts the air so chill.
And then, as cubs will rise from sleep,
This shred of gold, of ginger light
Awakes from rest—nightlong and deep—
And mounts the summits blessed with height.
The meadows flood with streams of glow,
And buzz with hums of morning bees;
As rays through honey sweet will flow,
They stream through aspen leaves with ease.
Through all the day the land will lie
In gold no lodes nor mines can bear;
The kind which falls from sources high
Upon the wheat like golden hair.
As spring will wane to summer dry,
So too the greenest gold must fade.
The noon comes ere the evening’s nigh;
The dimming sky cloaks all in shade.
Then light escapes the trees and hides
In meadows near the utmost east.
Like wind the rays up mountains glide
And all at once the hue’s released.
On all the rolling slopes they paint
A shade of gold and ginger light,
To stir the heart beyond restraint
With awe that lives through all the night.
As autumns yield to winters fell—
And leaves of orange wane to gray—
The last of light bids all farewell,
And vows to come another day.
