Is it They? Ask us not who. As trees know when creatures pass, We may know when Those look through From another kind of day. He and They within our sense. As we hope of bird or root: “Lo, it has intelligence!” Hidden ones may hope of us. INMOST ONE Brilliant and lone she sat Upon eternal height And veiled her face about. She was in fear of sin, She was in fear of deadly night, I saw her eyes peer out. I saw her eyes peer out And knew she was divine, But oh, her stedfast, dreadful gaze And her importunate doubt. She did not make me word or sign Or turn away her face. She did not make word or sign, But as she watched me err Her eyes grew cold like the dark star And her body ceased to shine. I could not breathe for the breath of her Was frost of Winter and fire of war. Her body ceased to shine. I dare not let her die. I opened my heart to the sun And I breathed her breath for mine. Behold, that Inmost One was I, And I was the inmost one. I opened my heart to the sun. O colour and line, and birth Of wonder and word and light! Through love and her I have won The earth within the earth And the sight that is more than sight. O colour and line and birth, Birth of an order new, Of a life that is more than my own ... Birth that is your birth ... Birth in me of you O God, brilliant and lone! STONE CELL Let me not see thee, Lord God of my essential life, where thou art not. Let me not look upon colour and pray to thee believing thee to be colour. Let me not go in silence or in dream and dream thee to be that silence. With the failing of the light let me not thrill at the intricate touch of that spirit Who films light to shadow, and kneel believing ecstasy to be prayer. From my dreams, from the siren singing and the imperious call, From the blinding joy and the august mystery of simple beauty Wilt not thou, compassionate, O deliver me, faint for beauty. God! If I were praying to be delivered from thee ... LIGHT We do not touch the texture of the light. But one may see with a secret eye The things that are. Then we divine that we need not die To win our heritage of sight. As well this earth as any other star. Waking from dream there trails an alien air, A residue of other suns than these; We know that we have walked an inner way, Have met familiars there And kept our step in exquisite concord The while we spoke some unremembered word. And over all there lay Light whose vibrations ran to other keys Than those we woke upon. Light whose long play Was dappled colour delicately kissed. Strange fires rayed from strange regions of the Lord. Light from the sun behind the sun fell where We went to keep our tryst.