Page:Poems, Meynell, 1921.djvu/34

"Sœur Monique" And I wonder at your peace, I wonder. Would it trouble you to know, Tender soul, the world and sin By your calm feet trodden under Long ago, Living now, mighty to win? And your feet are vanished like the snow.

Vanished; but the poet, he In whose dream your face appears, He who ranges unknown years With your music in his heart, Speaks to you familiarly Where you keep apart, And invents you as you were. And your picture, O my nun! Is a strangely easy one, For the holy weed you wear, For your hidden eyes and hidden hair, And in picturing you I may Scarcely go astray.

O the vague reality, The mysterious certainty! O strange truth of these my guesses In the wide thought-wildernesses! —Truth of one divined of many flowers; Of one raindrop in the showers Of the long-ago swift rain; Of one tear of many tears 26