The Adventure of the Apocalypse

Voice front the Wideness

A voice of myriad raptures with one soul,

Hum of a measureless bee drunk with all flowers,

Borne by a secret wind through night and day,

Thrills from the wideness of the universe

To an inmost silence lifting hands of prayer.

The multitudinous call of transient things

Comes perfumed now from an eternal deep

And grows the breath of some far silver flute

Playing a dream of earth's divinity.

From everywhere it blows, yet like a word

Brought delicately on a smile of trance

By some vast lover to the loved one's ear—

No name, but the rumour of a nameless fire,

A tremulous tongue of golden mystery

Whispering beatitudes beyond time's ken.

A beauty breaking from behind all life,

A luster falling from above all mind,

It laughs like the meeting of two hidden heavens

That suddenly shine out their single truth.

Softest of tones, yet infinite in its sweep,

Sovereign it circles, soothing every pain,

Conqueror of mortal grief by the touch of a kiss.

The primal Heart's creative song is here:

A mother-croon cradles a cosmic child

And rhythms its body with the Omnipotent's will.

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