Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/205

 is not my voice now speaks; but a bird In darkling forest hollows a sweet throat — Pleads on till distant echo too hath heard
 * And doubles every note:

So love that shrouded dwells in mystery
 * Would cry and waken thee.

Thou Solitary, stir in thy still sleep; All the night waits thee, yet thou still dream'st on. Furtive the shadows that about thee creep, And cheat the shining footsteps of the moon: Unseal thine eyes, it is my heart that sings,
 * And beats in vain its wings.

Lost in heaven's vague, the stars burn softly through The world's dark lalticings, we prisoned stray Within its lovely labyrinth, and know
 * Mute seraphs guard the way

Even from silence unto speech, from love To that self's self it still is dreaming of.