Audio

And when that greater Self comes sea-like down To fill this image of our transience, All shall be captured by delight, transformed

A mystic passion from the wells of God Flows through the guarded spaces of the soul; A force that helps supports the suffering earth, An unseen nearness and a hidden joy.

We seem to live in a fiction of our thoughts Pieced from sensation's fanciful traveller's tale, Or caught on the film of the recording brain, A figment or circumstance in cosmic sleep.

He has made into a thick and narrowing hedge Defending his small life from the Invisible; His being's kinship to infinity He has shut away from him into inmost self, Fenced off the greatnesses of hidden God.

A marvellous form responded to her gaze Whose sweetness justified life's blindest pain; All Nature's struggle was its easy price, The universe and its agony seemed worth while.

In this nether life of man drab-hued and dull, Yet filled with poignant small ignoble things, The conscious Doll is pushed a hundred ways And feels the push but not the hands that drive.

This huge world unintelligibly turns In the shadow of a mused Inconscience; It hides a key to inner meanings missed, It locks in our hearts a voice we cannot hear.

A creature insignificant and small Visited, uplifted by an unknown Power, Man laboured on his little patch of earth For means to last, to enjoy, to suffer and die.

A dream of living woke in Matter's heart, A will to live moved the Inconscient's dust, A freak of living startled vacant Time, Ephemeral in a blank eternity, Infinitesimal in a dead Infinite.