The Secret Splendour

Her eyes embrace all life;

They are brimmed with love,

 A weight which drew her down

From heaven above.

Two nectar-clouds are her breasts,

 Tipped with strange fire—

A reverie of roses

Unknown to the mire—

Roses of God that tremble

Like budding suns

Within her spirit's wombed

Omnipotence.

Now that her sheen of clay

Flows through the air,

 Time's secret destiny

Lies glowing bare:

Along each curve of dream

Moulded in earth,

We sweep on a wave of bliss

To shadowless new-birth.

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