The Secret Splendour

The noon of night: twelve sounds linger and cease...

Silence again, but now a different peace

 Floats on my dream as though the end of time's

 Self-utterance were reached in those twelve chimes

Monotonously ebbing on night s breath.

 The darkness is a miracle of death

 Into mysterious God-life brimming high

With dewy singlehood of earth and sky.

The body-barriers, swooning, fall from me

And merge in a shoreless stirless rapture-sea

Unwaved of form and mutability!

And though too soon a stroke of time will pierce

The veil of trance hiding the universe,

Washed in eternal joy shall rise the poignant hours.

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