My Thoughts

MY thoughts are fruited on thy magic tree

Among gold leaves, hung on a silver bough;

Fruits lustrous; delicate-hued like ivory

Or diamond stars shining on the sky-brow.

I pluck them one by one for my hearts store

Where like a rapturous vision they shall glow;

The tranced crystal walls and marble oor

Mirror their ame like glassy mounds of snow.

Each thought is burdened with thy mood divine

And wrapt with thy beauty unimaginable,

Brimming with splendours of a sun-red wine

And songs of a gold-throated nightingale.

They are my spirits moon-deep prayer to thee

Growing from earth-encumbered
ery seed

On a rocky curve of lone eternity

Woven-incense words and heaven-reveried.

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