Poems (Blind)/Aspirations/VII.

by Mathilde Blind

VII.

Like to the echoes, clear and light,
 The sounding horn arouses,
That flit from height to Alpine height,
 In elfin-like carouses;

Then float away,
 With flamings of the forward-speeding day.
Thus, in my soul, thy words awake
 Ideal aspirations,

That heavenwards their pulsion take:
 Swift dawn-lit exhalations,
And swell and rise
 To steep their being in the infinite skies.