The Secret Splendour

Not the ghost food of a mortal mouth's caress

 Nor the brief bread the heart can never eat—

 Not eyes of pity and not charity's hands—

But a new-birth's gift: within the flesh strange flesh

That feels no hunger, heart's heart that needs no kiss,

Some infinite spirit and substance suddenly ours,

Time-free yet brimmed with all that time holds rich,

 A world-vast Rose kindling a fathomless Void.

11.6.54

Page 584