The Secret Splendour

The glamour-tide calling across each day

Borrows no beauty from the outer sun:

It is a mirrored moment of the way

Which wanders dreaming to the Inmost One.

We can but know brief light and fickle foam

 Until through space and time we sail to win

Vespers and dawns and noons of God on some

 Gigantic rapture rolling from within.

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