The Secret Splendour

  Poems


 

Life has no aim for me

Save to behold

 In a sleep of ebony

Dreams of gold;

 

To stretch my little hand—

Suddenly feel

 Over the drowsy fingers

A new life steal,

 

Because they pluck, afar

One magic bloom

Out of the dreams that star

The hush of gloom;

 

Then to awake and see

Still on my palm

The flower of mystery,

Quenchless and calm!

 

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