Beauty, I seek your image in my heart Along uncharted reaches of my soul; Alone, yet multiple, Behind me, yet before, Beneath, within where least I thought you straying, Give me one broken vision of the Whole -- One bar of that strange music you are playing! Thus to all Beauty I my longing cried, at morn. One drop of dew fell mutely from the thorn, And, somewhere in the wood, a thrush replied. |