The Summons

Some day, when the golden glory
 Of June is over the earth,
And the birds are singing together
 In a wild, mad strain of mirth;
When the skies are as clear and cloudless
 As the skies in June can be,
I would like to have the summons
 Sent down from God to me.

Some glowing, golden morning
 In the heart of the summer time,
As I stand in the perfect vigour
 And strength of my youth's glad prime;
When my heart is light and happy,
 And the word seems to bright to me,
I would like to dropp from this earth life,
 As a green leaf drops from a tree.

I would not wait for the furrows -
 For the faded eyes and hair;
But pass out swift and sudden,
 Ere I grow heart-sick with care;
I would break some morn in my singing -
 Or fall in my springing walk
As a full-blown flower will sometimes
 Drop, all a-bloom, from the stalk.

I think the leaf would sooner
 Be the first to break away,
Than to hang alone in the orchard
 In the bleak November day.
And I think the fate of the flower
 That falls in the midst of bloom
Is sweeter than if it lingered
 To die in the autumn's gloom.

And so, in my youth's glad morning,
 While the summer walks abroad,
I would like to hear the summons,
 That must come, sometime, from God.
I would pass from the earth's perfection
 To the endless June above:
From the fullness of living and loving,
 To the noon of Immortal Love.