MILLET’S ANGELUS.

MILLET’S ANGELUS.
511.2

ENVELOPED by the sunset’s crimson tida
That over all the dreaming landscape lies-
Transfusing it to glory with the skies-
In reverence stand the tollers side by side,
Earth-stained and weary, while across the wide,
Dim fields the Angelus slowly swells and dies–
But they dream not all that to artist eyes
They have themselves revealed and typified.

To me beholding, comes the quickening thought
That we, so close to earth, bowed with the stress
Of daily toil and hopes that come to naught,
Our senses dulled with grief-how shall we guess
What meaning from it all might not be wrought
To beauty by some higher consciousness?
-HELEN A. SAXON