The Secret Splendour

She seems but playing tennis—

The whole world is in that game!

A little ball she is striking—

What is struck is a huge white flame

 Leaping across time's barrier

Between God's hush, man's heart,

 And while the exchange goes speeding

The two shall never part.

In scoring the play's progress

The result of minds that move,

One word in constant usage

Is the mystic syllable "Love".

And the one high act repeated

Over and over again

By either side is "Service",

And it never is done in vain.

 For, whether defeat or triumph

Is the end, each movement goes

Soulward: through this short pastime

Eternity comes more close!

27.5.54

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