There dwelt the silence ever lightly wed
With winged sound. There the persuading green
Took ancient citadels with soundless tread.
Was not the opening blue of buds between
Soft solitary leaves a lyric set
To music of the things that lift and lean?
My hands were mother-tender of the net
Of silk they found. My feet were light
To loose no dew from the least violet.
The fragile fabric of dissolved night
Seemed in the air. A million little minds
Kept concert in the very realm of sight.
O—and suddenly as sunlight finds
White towers I heard the ancient wood unfold
Its ancient secret piped by little winds.
“Behold the beauty in me. O behold
The beauty that makes utter peace, in me;
Beauty that is immeasurably old.”
The whole world like a bell heard echoingly.
Words wonderful! I found a fairy bed
And saw that which the wildwood let me see.
(O Little Wind that brought me what it said!)
III: Night Is Here
Night is here and star-rise
And demeanour of the dark.
Visioned by my closed eyes
Now I lie within an arc.
Lyric loom,
All the silence is a-hark