OVER the long salt ridges br And the gold sea-poppies between, br They builded them wild-briar hedges, br A church and a cloistered green. br And when they were done with their praises, br And the tides on the Fore beat slow, br Under the white cliff-daisies br They laid them down in a row. br br Porphyry, Paul, and Peter, br Jasper, and Joachim,– br Was the psaltery music sweeter br Than the throat of the thrush to him ? br Tired of their drones and their dirges, br Where the young cliff-rabbits play, br Wet with the salt of the surges, br They laid them down for a day. br br One may not call to the other br There on the rim of the deep, br Only the youngest brother br Lies and smiles in his sleep. br When the wild swan's shadow passes, br When the ripe fruit falls to the sod, br When the faint moth flies in the grasses br He dreams in the hands of God. br br Here for his hopes there follow br The violets one by one. br The dove is here and the swallow br And the young leaf seeking the sun. br And here when the last sail darkens br And the last lone path is trod, br Under the rose he harkens br And smiles in the eyes of God.