Page:Dreams and Dust, by Don Marquis.djvu/24

 Sometimes when sudden afterglows In futile glory storm the skies Within their transient gold and rose The secret stirs and dies; Or when the trampling morn walks o'er The troubled seas, with feet of flame, My awed heart whispers, "Ask no more, For Beauty is the name!"

Or dreaming in old chapels where The dim aisles pulse with murmurings That part are music, part are prayer-- (Or rush of hidden wings) Sometimes I lift a startled head To some saint's carven countenance, Half fancying that the lips have said, All names mean God, perchance!"