IN dreadful times of death and war She sails, a little fixèd star, Or like a little ship she glides With gentle winds and favouring tides Up to the harbour bar. Wrapped in all mild tranquillities She muses: inward gaze her eyes; And lest she slip upon a stone Gabriel or some shining one Guards her high destinies. No rumour reaches her at all, Beyond her safe encompassing wall, Of a mad world that slays and slays: She sees a little one that plays And sleeps at evenfall. She is the House of Life: and where She goes the angels bend to her. A little secret garden-close, Sweet with the lily and the rose, With frankincense and myrrh. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 11 by EZRA POUND CHINA 1937 by LAURA FRANCES ALEXANDER WITHER AWAY by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY BEYOND THE BAR by BEATRICE B. BEEBE THE DUELLIST by CHARLES CHURCHILL EPISTLE TO SIR CLIFFORD CLIFTON, THEN SITTING IN PARLIAMENT by CHARLES COTTON |