The Secret Splendour

  Poems


 

Who rings those bells,

Numberless, white?

 What happy hands a: work

In the towering night?

 None hears the myriad tune

Trembling afar

To wake the infinite sleep

Twixt star and star.

The Immense await:; beyond

All fling of eye.

Only when lids weigh down

With a burden of sky

 A Self within all selves

Breaks wide the brain

And we reach at last the secret

Of the silver strain

To which the

Unknown sets free

Its core of care

 For the tiny aches which wonder

Who twinkles the dark air.

Unveiled are then the workers

At each gloom tide.

Calling our heartbeats where

Eternities hide

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