Part 20 (1/2)

Those whose Love, unborn to sight, Never did itself disclose Save in water's cry; a rose; Meteor furrowing the night;

Mote of any turning ray; Pipe of bird mid sunset's flush; Rain stilled, leaves flame-wet, and hush Of a rainbow's fire and spray;

Any straight road leads afar 'Cross a hill-brow--What's beyond?

Seven hung notes of music fond; Seven dark poplars, one white star;

Cloud lifting a tower aloft; Light and play and shadowy grace Of the soul behind a face Flitting by on motion soft;

Lonely figure on a height; Those whose love but s.h.i.+nes a hint Fainter than the far sea's glint To the inland gazer's sight--

These alone, and but in part, Guess of what my songs are spun, And Who holds communion Subtly with my troubled heart.

But the substance of my grief Scarcely can their thought surmise, Who but glimpse through these my eyes Joy as fathomless as brief.

Others in this strange world flung, Orphans, too, of Destiny, Have the virtue, but not I, Keeps heart crystal, single tongue;

And know not, whose hearts are whole, How--when sickened and unclean, Unfit or to see, be seen-- Close thorns pack and p.r.i.c.k the soul.

Yet though here soul suffereth, Complicate by vision's light, Never would I cede this right Of a sharpened life and death.

For I keep in confidence In my breast a subtle faith 'Scapes alway by narrow scathe And I draw my succour thence.

One Day, or maybe one Night-- Living? dying?--I shall see The Rose open gloriously On its heart of living light.

Know what any bird may mean, Meteor in my heart shall rest, Spelled on my brain blaze th' unguessed Words of the rainbow's dazzling sheen.

O the hour for which I wait!

Lovers of the Secret Love Watch with me, and we will prove Constancy can be elate.