The Secret Splendour

All

Not mine the changeful flame of love that burns

With the brief strangeness of the passing hours—

Prey to the slow chill shadow that devours

The shining fantasy of loveliness.

You are to me, O girl, a vision upcaught

Into the passionate tranquillity

Of time-triumphant archetypal thought

Beyond the aching gaze, the mouth that yearns,

The cruel joys that glimmer and depart.

Not spirit alone but even the frail fair clay

I hold within that quintessential light

Above the pain and pallor of distress:

I saw you in a flash of eternity

And gathered your whole life into my heart—

All the young dazzle of your proud spring-day

And all the snow and sorrow of your winter-night!

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