Page:Hymns of the Marshes.djvu/31

 So, ye have wrought me

Designs on the night of our knowledge,—yea, ye have taught me,

So,

That haply we know somewhat more than we know.

Ye lispers, whisperers, singers in storms,

Ye consciences murmuring faiths under forms,

Ye ministers meet for each passion that grieves,

Friendly, sisterly, sweetheart leaves,

Oh, rain me down from your darks that contain me

Wisdoms ye winnow from winds that pain me,—

Sift down tremors of sweet-within-sweet

That advise me of more than they bring,—repeat

Me the woods-smell that swiftly but now brought breath

From the heaven-side bank of the river of death,—

Teach me the terms of silence,—preach me

The passion of patience,—sift me,—impeach me, —

And there, oh there