The Secret Splendour

  Poems


 

A pecking bird's desire

To fly in the mirror-space—

Soul's fretting to wing higher

Meets with no gentler grace.

 

The hardness of that heaven

Is answer to the bright

Surface of self unrivens

We take for earth-delight.

 

When the small hungers gaze

Inward, a pinion-sweep

Knows the high mirror-space

An all-enfolding Deep.

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