 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
The Word
The voice that speaks when thou art in thy tomb,And spoke before thou sawst the morning light;
This is the Word! of all that is the womb,
Of all that see the never failing sight;
Speechless yet ever speaking, none can hear
The man grown silent in the praise of God;
For they within him live, to hope and fear;
They walk and speak, but he the grass-green sod;
Its presence round them calls them hence to It,
A Voice too great for murmur or reproof;
A sun that shines till they are of it lit,
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Perfect, without a blemish; never found
Save through the veil that wraps thy being round.
Poem No. 588; fall 1838–summer 1839
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |