Songs of the Spirit

DEDICATION TO J. L. B. THE vault of purple that I strove To pierce, and find unchanging love, Or some vast countenance above All glory of the soul of man, Baffled my blind aspiring gaze With sunlight’s melancholy rays, And closed with iron hand the ways That sunder space, divide the days with fiery fan. Thine was the forehead mild and grave That shown throughout the azure nave Where Monte Rosa’s silence gave The starry organ’s measured sound. Where for an altar stood the bare Mass of Mont Cervin, towering there And angels dwelt upon the stair, And all the mountains were aware that stood around. v