Within her depths where revels never tire,

The Olden Beauty shines: each thought of me

Is veined through with its fire.

And all my thoughts are throngs of living souls;

They breathe in me, heart unto heart allied;

Their joy undimmed, though when the morning tolls

The planets may divide.

DAWN

Still as the holy of holies breathes the vast

Within its crystal depths the stars grow dim;

Fire on the altar of the hills at last

Burns on the shadowy rim.

Moments that holds all moments; white upon

The verge it trembles; then like mists of flowers

Break from the fairy fountain of the dawn

The hues of many hours.

[7]

Thrown downward from that high companionship

Of dreaming inmost heart with inmost heart,

Into the common daily ways I slip,

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