The Secret Splendour

All dumb things draw us by a secret love

Now that one cherished soul lies ever dumb:

Each flower strains hp meet our straining breath

And rocks are calm because they wait for us.

 Nor have we fear of winds that hurl the eye

 Into deep darkness, Or white tongues of thunder,

Or the chill murderous monotone of sea:

They too are messengers of the one Quiet

With whom we yearn to mingle - beautiful Quiet

-Love's perfume wafted on the voice of death!

Unto some God within our common clay

She burned her perfect hair's gold frankincense

 And those bright thuribles of dream upbore

And gave her hands - a many-tapered flame!

 Piercing our veil of weakness, her life's vigil

Has lit in us a vision-power that turns

The woeful void left by her unseen shape

 A door to reach one all-embracing Hush.

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