Page:Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918).djvu/99

 The Book of a Monk's Life In cassocks clad I have had many brothers

In southern cloisters where the laurel grows,

They paint Madonnas like fair human mothers

And I dream of young Titians and of others

In which the God with shining radiance glows.

But though my vigil constantly I keep

My God is dark—like woven texture flowing,

A hundred drinking roots, all intertwined;

I only know that from His warmth I'm growing.

More I know not: my roots lie hidden deep

My branches only are swayed by the wind.

55