The Secret Splendour

Your touch is ever so soft upon my heart,

As though the slumbering veils would never part

Which blind me to Your noon of nakedness.

You come most shyly nor Your beauty press

With all that irresistible leap of light

Which focuses to flesh the Infinite

And breaks to rapturous cinders human will.

You leave me strong to clasp earth-darkness still:

You pluck no pale surrender from the mind,

But, like a breath or beam, would urge me find

By lustrous winging of my mortal gaze

The fadeless sun that flowers in Your face.

So might I, burning godlike through brief days

To vaster vision, be not humbled much

By Your supreme effulgences of touch.

1944

Page 542