At times thou art the spacious light and air
Of all this tranquil morning garden, where
Sinuous paths wind in the blue haze
Like swans upon the deep blue water-ways.
At other times thou art the shivering wind
Exultant, cool,
Who passes, running fingers light and kind
Along the clear brow of the pool.
When with thy two hands thou touchest me,
I feel the brushing of cool leaves
Against my cheek;
When midday cleaves
The dimness, all the shadows secretly
Meditate the words that thou didst speak.
So all the hours pass by some sweet grace
Of thine, into my heart;
And when at last the wan night comes apace
And rapt in sleep and still, apart,
Thy spirit lies,
Feel thro' thy closed eyelids how mine eyes
Dwell on thee with a love beyond compare,
More humble and more clinging than a prayer.