The Secret Splendour

Not only with the voice of mighty things,

Exultant rain or swift importunate sea,

But even on the unnoticeable wings

Of nameless birdsong I shall quest for Thee.

To consecrate - however magnificent -

No fragmentary passion I aspire,

But one glad life cf mingling hours intent

Upon Thy beauty, touched with selfsame fire.

For, what avail great moments if their flight

Leave the familiar day a fruitless din,

Nor give their glory's tone antiphonal note

 Each wanderer wind-lark, nor the common night

 Find the soul's gaze a placid mere wherein

Worship holds argently the heavens afloat?

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