Page:Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918).djvu/102

 The Book of Pilgrimage

By day Thou are [sic] the Legend and the Dream

That like a whisper floats about all men,

The deep and brooding stillnesses which seem,

After the hour has struck, to close again.

And when the day with drowsy gesture bends

And sinks to sleep beneath the evening skies,

As from each roof a tower of smoke ascends—

So does Thy Realm, my God, around me rise.

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