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