The Secret Splendour

Strange tunes are now struck on the mortal nerves

By fingers of far dream: rich agony

They pluck from the tense hushful intstrument

And like a million-petalled rose upbear

In skyward dedication. Brightly curves

The flower and frankincense of melody

To some vague Altitude calm, omnipotent—

A shining self-forgetfulness of prayer!

High and yet higher the earth-sacrifice

 Floats through the gloom its visionary appeal

 For life's completion Gods by whom were sown

All seeds of beauty cry they had never known

Clay could, with such divine heart-name, reveal

 Her passion the true mate of paradise!

6.10.34

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