In the far distant East gleams a light—faint but effulgent, and as I watch it moves slowly, majestically, westward.
Still I gaze, and watch it ever going higher, moving more swiftly, and growing ever brighter and larger.
Still I gaze:
Swifter becomes its movement, more dazzling its light, and lo! from what seemed a speck when I first gazed upon that light, has grown a golden bird with outstretched wings gleaming and sending showers of golden radiance with each movement.
Westward it moves, ever expanding, ever more dazzling, until at last all the face of the world has been showered with the glimmering gold from its wings.
Still I gaze:
High in the heavens is motionless this wonderful golden bird—then, slowly, with scarcely moving pinions it descends, and with a final quiver takes under the shelter of its mighty wings a world of sorrow.
Still I gaze:
No movement, but ever the light increasing and dazzling in brilliancy and beauty.
Still I gaze:
A flutter—an unfolding of the mighty pinions and then a swift flight upwards—ever swifter—ever higher, until at last all sight of its wonder is lost.
Then I gaze where it rested, and behold! a new earth of dazzling gold and everywhere gleaming lights of rainbow tints.
Then I muse:
And from out of the silence comes a voice:
“Thus will the world appear when Peace has folded it within its wings, and Love shines out from each and every window.”
Transcriber’s Note:
Obvious errors in spelling and punctuation have been silently corrected in this version, but minor inconsistencies and archaic forms have been retained as printed.
The table of contents has been expanded in this version.