Front 8th May to 8th June

A month has flown like some Archangel's form

Dripping a light of God-drunk reverie.

And I have lain aloof and still to see

The truth-gold pinions of that singing storm.

Men move with days; but I have reached a rest

From where I view days moving wondrously

Out of an east of crimson gaiety

Unto a violet wisdom in the west!

Even in the drowsy hours that ever fade

Far and more far into a black beyond,

The same Archangel's secret heart-beats chime,

A dimness of divinest diamond.

Rapture is all, because my mind is made

One with a Mother Mystery above time.

8-6-48

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