Lord of the far horizons,Give us the eyes to seeOver the verge of the sundownThe beauty that is to be.

The life we give to beautyReturns to us again.

Thy coming is companionedBy presences of bliss;The rivers and the little leavesAll know how good it is.

I took a day to search for God, And found Him not; but as I trod, By rocky ledge, through woods untamed, Just where one scarlet lily flamed, I saw His footprint in the sod

When promise and patience are wearing thin, When endurance is almost driven in, When our angels stand in a waiting hush, Remember the Marne and Ferdinand Foch.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir: We must rise and follow her, When from every hill of flame She calls, and calls each vagabond by name.