Of soundless winter, I have heard the same
Splendor speak forth, and utter the one name
Of Life, the dreadful, the magnificent.
All afternoon the passion of heaven spent
On earth its fiery fury in blind, bright
Lightnings of dread and laughters of delight
Down shuddering deeps of shaken thunder, where
The delirious longing loosed its sorrowing hair
Of wind and shower and overshadowing cloud
Across the belovèd face, in darkness bowed