John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892). The Poetical Works in Four Volumes. 1892.
Poems of NatureThe Vanishers
S
In the simple Indian lore
Still to me the legend seems
Of the shapes who flit before.
Never reached nor found at rest,
Baffling search, but beckoning on
To the Sunset of the Blest.
Through the dark of lowland firs,
Flash the eyes and flow the locks
Of the mystic Vanishers!
And the hunter on the moss,
Hear their call from cape and cliff,
See their hands the birch-leaves toss.
Twilight of the clustered pines,
In their faces rarely seen
Beauty more than mortal shines.
On the slopes of westering knolls;
In the wind they whisper low
Of the Sunset Land of Souls.
Thou and I have seen them too;
On before with beck and sign
Still they glide, and we pursue.
In the gold of setting day;
More than gleams of wing or sail
Beckon from the sea-mist gray.
Gleams and glories seen and flown,
Far-heard voices sweet with truth,
Airs from viewless Eden blown;
Sweetness that transcends our taste,
Loving hands we may not clasp,
Shining feet that mock our haste;
Tender voices heard once more,
Smile and call us, as they go
On and onward, still before.
Let us walk our little way,
Knowing by each beckoning sign
That we are not quite astray.
Smiling eye and waving hand,
Sought and seeker soon shall meet,
Lost and found, in Sunset Land!