But the soul of us will not be caught Within the chains that language wrought; One simple flight of spirit doth enshrine, Better than word or fitful thought, Our joy in its abiding place divine,-- That heaven of thine wherein thy soul Kneels gently down to mine, And that where wistfully my soul Kneels humbly there to thine. X Come out into the garden fair Where now the brooding eve Has closed the flowers with its tranquil light, And in thy soul let sink the peaceful night; For no longer may its gloom achieve To trouble our deep prayer. Above, the crystal stars are shining forth With light translucent and more pure Than ever came from out the frozen North; Beyond them all, the peaceful skies endure. The million voices of this mystery Murmur around thee, The million laws of nature's realm Are stirring about thee. The silver tides from all the universe o'erwhelm Thy heart, but thou hast naught of fear or strife, For thy soul knows--it is that love may be, The love that is the work of life And its mystery in thee. Take then this peace the skies have sent, And lay it to thy soul, since fear has gone, This peace that floats, like some strange dawn, Across the midnight of the firmament. XI How swiftly is she caught in ecstasy, With her clear eyes of leaping flame; She, so sweet with clarity, Meek before life's sternest claim. This eve how sudden fervour rayed Her eyes! A simple word did entrance yield To the garden where she stood revealed Both queen and serving maid! So meek herself, but for us two on fire; To her must kneel whoever doth desire The harvest of that joy that rolls From out our two surchargèd souls. We heard exulting love within us seek The quiet refuge of our hearts once more, And the living silence speak Words we dreamed not of before! XII At that time when in loneliness I stood, And desolation deep within me froze My life, you shone from out the multitude-- A glowing window on a winter eve Across the windy surface of the snows. Your piteous heart brought sweet reprieve, Caressingly, to me in need, Like breath of spring from off some warmèd mead. And faith did then command That frankness, tenderness and troth Should dwell with friendly hand in hand Within the wind-hushed stillness of us both. Since then, though summer melts the winter cold Within, and under skies whose leaping fire Designs with gold All the winding pathways of our thought; Though flaming love itself is brought To far-flung blossoms of desire, That endlessly, to gain in might, Seek endless birth anew; Always I look to that dear light Whose sweetness first I knew. XIII