 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
XVII
Draw from thine eyes the veil that hides
Ideal visions; beckonings
Of loveliness, whose soul abides
Beneath the commonplace of things:
No brook within the woodland then
But shows its sparkling god to thee;
Upon the ancient hills no tree
Whose whispering spirit thou shalt not see,
Fairer than children born of men.
Ideal visions; beckonings
Of loveliness, whose soul abides
Beneath the commonplace of things:
No brook within the woodland then
But shows its sparkling god to thee;
Upon the ancient hills no tree
Whose whispering spirit thou shalt not see,
Fairer than children born of men.
17
Refine thy flesh that never hears
The inner music of all things,—
The deaf flesh,—from thy spirit's ears,
And list the vaster voice that sings
With pregnant lips unto the Earth:
Mornings, who hymn with gold the sky,
To which the eves with gold reply—
The everlasting heavens that cry
The visible psalms of death and birth.
The inner music of all things,—
The deaf flesh,—from thy spirit's ears,
And list the vaster voice that sings
With pregnant lips unto the Earth:
Mornings, who hymn with gold the sky,
To which the eves with gold reply—
The everlasting heavens that cry
The visible psalms of death and birth.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |