FROM A WINDOW.
Reading edition
On other quiet summer nights like these, I have leaned forth where honey-suckles pressed The twilight pane, and watched the priory West Send forth its cowled clouds over purple seas— Seeing, through eve-blurred glass, the waters rise Beyond sea-lavender’s fringed traceries; Worshipping, as I worship now, the Sign That God and Earth are ever one Divine. Only, the flower of lily in the green, The scarlet feathered black-bird in the sedge; Even the white shell by the water’s edge, Seem to have seen God—whom I have not seen. Yet with these wistful eyes that may not know, Let me dare every doubt and darkness. So, Walking blind roads, spanning all voids, I tread Earth’s flowing Beauty to its Fountain Head.