The Adventure of the Apocalypse

I Bring a Song. . .

Fingers of light fall on my vague heart-strings.

They wake a tremble that glimmers and is gone.

A little secrecy shines out in each tune,

But in that shining moment is no end

Of the power that falls and the passion that flies up.

A small bird with seven colours on its throat

Lifts on wide wings that are invisible

With quivers of a rapture infra-red

Rhyming to a wisdom ultra-violet.

Those black fires merging in a mystic sky

Bear in their beat a burthen of measureless bliss:

Sounds that are wonder-vast with things undreamed

Call to the ear from far beyond the eye.

A music whose meanings never can be seen

Throbs to be deeply felt and suddenly known

As if truth's light were grown one's utter self ! . . .

I bring a song that shows the mind's outgaze

Colours of a beauty fading with strange cry

To thrill in the soul an intimate Infinite.

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