Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/113

But he walked through the ancient wilderness.
O, there the prints of feet were numberless
  And holy all about him! And quite plain
He saw each spot an angel silvershod
  Had lit upon; where Jacob too had lain
The place seemed fresh,—and, bright and lately trod,
A long track showed where Enoch walked with God.

And often, while the sacred darkness trailed
Along the mountains smitten and unveiled
  By rending lightnings,—over all the noise
Of thunders and the earth that quaked and bowed
  From its foundations—he could hear the voice
Of great Elias prophesying loud
To Him whose face was covered by a cloud.

Already he was shown so perfectly
The awful mystic grace and sanctity
  Of all the earth, there was no part his feet
With sandal covering might dare to tread;
  Because that in it he was sure to meet
The fair sword-bearing angels, or some dread
Eternal prophet numbered with the dead.