xii DEDICATION.
That even my song may pierce the iron night,
Invoking dawn in thy great name, O Master!
Till to the stainless heaven of the soul
Even my chariot-wheels on thunder roll.
And so, most sacred soul, most reverend head,
The silence of deep midnight shall be bound,
And with the mighty concourse of the dead
That live, that contemplate, my place be found,
Even mine, through all the seasons that are shed
Like leaves upon the darkness, where the sound
Of all high song through calm eternity
Shall beat and boom, thine own maternal sea.
For in the formless world, so swift a fire
Shall burn, that fire shall not be comprehended ;
So deep a music roll, that our desire
Shall hear no sound ; shall beam a light so splendid
That darkness shall be infinite: the lyre
Fashioned of truth, strung with men’s heart-strings
| blended,
Shall sound as silence: and all souls be still
In wisdom’s high communion with will.