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From The Birmingham Age Herald, February 14, 1915. By Bliss Carman.

Tender as the wind of summer
    That wanders among the flowers,
Down worldly aisles with enchanted smiles
    She leads the mysterious hours.

This is immortal Psyche,
    The winged soul of man—
Ardor unspent and innocent
    As when the world began.

Out of the ancient silence
    Over the darkling earth,
As streamers swim on the sunrise rim,
    She moves between sorrow and mirth.

The impulse of things eternal,
    The transport hidden in clay,
Like a dancing beam on a noonday stream
    She signals along the way.

Her feet are poised over peril,
    Her eyes are familiar with death,
Her radiant wings are daring things,
    Frail as the beat of a breath.

Over the ocean of being,
    In her gay, incredible flight,
See her float and run in the gold of the sun
    Down to the gates of night.

The storm may darken above her,
    The surges thunder below,
But on through a rift where the gold lights drift,
    Still she will dancing go.

Treasuring things forgotten,
    As dreams and destinies fade;
Spirit of truth and ageless youth
    She laughs and is not afraid.

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