– 41 –

Winter Night

All night long, Spirit of Beauty, hast thou played to me
Upon an instrument of immeasurable range;
Thy great stars scattered on black immensity,
Thy moonlight let loose about me, white and strange.

At bird-embroidered dawn, on incredible pale blue hast
Thou laddering, slender, rosy cloud-bars laid;
And all this prodigality in my small casement compassed,
All this melodious wealth before my sight displayed.

All night long thy pure music, beautiful Spirit,
Disciplined my spirit, these keen, deep hours of June,
And I lie quiet, offering my heart to be a wintry wind-harp.
Whereby thou mightest, peradventure, breathe a heavenly tune.