So clear, yet so profound, a strain
Into the simple ear of spring--
Some secret understanding given
Of the hid purposes of Heaven.

And all my life until this day,
And all my life until I die,
All joy and sorrow of the way,
Seem calling yonder in the sky;
And there is something the song saith
That makes me unafraid of death.

Now the slow light fills all the trees,
The world, before so still and strange,
With day's familiar presences,
Back to its common self must change,
And little gossip shapes of song
The porches of the morning throng.

Not yours with such as these to vie
That of the day's small business sing,
Voice of man's heart and of God's sky--
But O you make so deep a thing
Of joy, I dare not think of pain
Until I hear you sing again.


ALMA VENUS

Only a breath--hardly a breath! The shore