Page:A midsummer holiday and other poems (IA midsummerholiday00swin).pdf/52

 The spirit of God, whose breath of life is song, Moved, though his word was human, on the face Of those deep waters of the soul, too long Dumb, dark, and cold, that waited for the grace Wherewith day kindles heaven: and as some throng Of quiring wings fills full some lone chill place With sudden rush of life and joy, more strong Than death or sorrow or all night's darkling race, So was my heart, that heard All heaven in each deep word, Filled full with light of thought, and waxed apace Itself more wide and deep, To take that gift and keep And cherish while my days fulfilled their space A record wide as earth and sea, The Legend writ of Ages past and yet to be.