Emma Lazarus (1849–1887)

(After Robert Schumann)

FORTH in the sunlit, rain-bathed air we stepped,

Sweet with the dripping grass and flowering vine,

And saw through irised clouds the pale sun shine.

Back o’er the hills the rain-mist slowly crept

Like a transparent curtain’s silvery sheen;

And fronting us the painted bow was arched,

Whereunder the majestic cloud-shapes marched:

In the wet, yellow light the dazzling green

Of lawn and bush and tree seemed stained with blue.

Our hearts o’erflowed with peace. With smiles we spake

Of partings in the past, of courage new,

Of high achievement, of the dreams that make

A wonder and a glory of our days,

And all life’s music but a hymn of praise.