Tis Visible Silence, Still As The Hour-glass.

At Length Their Long Kiss Severed, With Sweet Smart:and As The Last Slow Sudden Drops Are Shedfrom Sparkling Eaves When All The Storm Has Fled,so Singly Flagged The Pulses Of Each Heart.

And Love, Our Light At Night And Shade At Noon,lulls Us To Rest With Songs, And Turns Awayall Shafts Of Shelterless Tumultuous Day.

This Sunlight Shames November Where He Grieves In Dead Red Leaves, And Will Not Let Him Shun The Day, Though Bough With Bough Be Overrun. But With A Blessing Every Glade Receives High Salutation.

Give Honour Unto Luke Evangelist; For He It Was (the Aged Legends Say) Who First Taught Art To Fold Her Hands And Pray.

Sometimes Thou Seem'st Not As Thyself Alone, But As The Meaning Of All Things That Are.