The Secret Splendour

God is the refuge of lions,

Lions that have felt fear—

 Their body's tawny thunder

Remembers the heaven-hurled spear

Deep in an unknown darkness,

The plunge of their lightning soul

Whence spread that glorious sound-burst

Of muscle to a murderous goal!

O suddenly this secret

Spiked whiteness from on high

 Within their roaring life-lust

Breaks from behind their eye,

And they know that not by gorging

The time-world's fugitive meat

 But by that inmost fire-fall

Sprang up their huge heart's heat.

A wonder and a terror,

A pure flame not their own,

They crouch before that sky-shaft

Piercing their! blood and bone.

And to the infinite spaces

They bow their hero's head,

 Craving the touch of the Master

From whom this javelin sped.

 His love, calm, power they seek—

The curve of! His blessing hand

Their cave—the death of the tremor

No lion's pride will stand.

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