Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/126



of the dark sweet sleep Where no dreams laugh or weep Borne through bright gates of birth Into the dim sweet light Where day still dreams of night While heaven takes form on earth, White rose of spirit and flesh, red lily of love, What note of song have we Fit for the birds and thee, Fair nestling couched beneath the mother‑dove?

Nay, in some more divine Small speechless song of thine