 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
35
THE KING'S SECRET
Kept well—too closely kept—or so it seems—Few quests disclose the Secret of the King.
That Presence, manifest in evening's cool
Long since in the first garden of the world,
Withdrawn to-day in the most secret place
Of all concealment, baffles reason's search.
God veils His glory from our questing eyes—
We know not why; few claims are ours to press:
But still the longing and the hope remain.
Poor baffled reason in the end perchance
Finds her spent forces unto new give place,
While in the soul at length, from all apart,
The glory dawns, and in the depths thereof
A still voice breathes the Secret of the King.
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |