THE air grows one with a voice;

Some magical sway ,

Has utterly changed the paltry hour

To a strangeness which is yet our one true home.

The calyx of the song no longer laps

The slowly opening silence that is Light.

Now the silence is a calm blue sky :

The song has become three dazzling doves

Of whiteness, and they wing with a lovely motion

Of a rapture unmingled and unmarred.

O harmony of incorruptible form

Stay further— in the hourglass every sand-grain

Is of gold—Time's metronome Is changed to the subtlest weaving

Of the Life Dance and the Hymn of Love.