The Secret Splendour

How would I pass into the souls great stillness?

Lead forth my love, but with a calm face turned

Let her look towards the lands of life and slowly

 Unloosen all her pale hair's perfumed mass

Of delicate mystery. O halo of hair,

 God's benediction on her mortal head,

Across my gloom ray down your tenderness!

O dream-cascade of splendour—to the quiet

Music of your faint falling I would die;

 Upon heart-soothing spirit cadences

Carry me over the dread verge of time!...

 And let there be to death no after-homage

Save the soft gathering of your shaken tones

Of living beauty into the old high stillness.

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