Her heart of love assembles and transcends

Laws, letters, personalities,

Beginnings, passages and ends.

Often I start and look beside me for the stir

Of her sweet presence come again.

I have cried out to her,

So vivid has begun

Some dear-remembered sentence in her voice.

If a deluded wakeful thrush,

Seeing a light in a window, sings to the sun,

Yet he shall soon rejoice;

When the great dawn of day

Opens a thousand windows into one.

On a path where thrushes wake—called Celia’s Way—

Time after time

She led me high among the rills.

And always when I pass again our chosen pine

And feel upon my brow the fine

Soft pressure of an unseen web and brush

It from my face expectantly and climb

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