Classic Poem

When the Maker was resting
The last day of seven,
A dream kept questing
Thro' earth and heaven.

A dream kept questing
The young world round,
No place for resting
On earth it found.

‘Ah, what can be wanting
In the sea and the sky?’—
And still it kept haunting
The Dreamer on high.

‘Ah, what can be wanting
Out there in the West?’—
And still it kept haunting
And breaking His rest.

When the Maker is dreaming,
The dream comes true:
An Isle rose gleaming
The green waves through.

And there keeps questing
The dream of heaven,
Since the Maker was resting
The last day of seven!