Impassable gate

Of tumult. But by mountains and by seas I gain

Path after path of peace.”

One evening Celia led me, late,

Among the many whispers before rain,

To touch and climb her hill again.

I felt it rise invisible as fate,

Not for the eye but for the soul to see.

And when at last, among the oaks, we came

Upon the top, a perfect voice

Thrilled in the air like flame—

Was it uprisen death we heard?

Was it immortal youth,

Out of the body, witnessing the truth,

Attesting glory in an angel’s voice?

Blindly we listened to the singer and the single strain

Containing joy.

And then the voice was still and all the world and we—

Till “Run,” she said, “and bring him back to me!”

I ran, I called ... but in the nearing rain,

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