The Secret Splendour

When lips go singing love,

The eyes are wet

 Because of an unviewed

 Visage They never can forget.

Immitigable gloom

Hangs between

Our dream and dawns of Beauty

 No yearning heart has seen.

O vain all magic tune

Weaved by despair:

Who shall imprison Godhead

 In moving nets of air?

Only the quiet fall

 Of pure flesh-line

Rhyming with soul of worship

 Beckons the far Divine;

And though clay-eyes are dim

The lips' lone drouth

 Is sealed to a hush of heaven

By a viewless Love's mouth.

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