 | Poems of Adoration |  |
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CLOUD that streams its breath of unseen flowers,
Cloud with spice of bay,
Of roses, lily-breathings, and the powers
Of small violets, or, aloft, black poplars as they quiver!
Cloud with spice of bay,
Of roses, lily-breathings, and the powers
Of small violets, or, aloft, black poplars as they quiver!
Cloud that streams its song of birds—no bird
Seen to chant the song:
Yet wide and keen as sun-breath it is heard,
All the air itself a voice of voices chiming golden!
Seen to chant the song:
Yet wide and keen as sun-breath it is heard,
All the air itself a voice of voices chiming golden!
Mary hath passed by. All plants sweet-leaved,
Sweet-flowered; birds, sweet-voiced,
Round her passing have their sweetness weaved.
Let us yield our incense up, our anthems and our homage!
Sweet-flowered; birds, sweet-voiced,
Round her passing have their sweetness weaved.
Let us yield our incense up, our anthems and our homage!
| Poems of Adoration | |