  A wave Throbs restless in the darkness on the sea. Glorious in heaven shines a strong white star, Sending long slender lines of level light Serenely through the stillness; and the wave Takes to its heart the beautiful bright thing, Unconscious that it now stands self-revealed In its own palpitating restlessness. “How very strange,” it murmurs to itself, “That a great radiant star should tremble so, Even as I do; and more strange it seems, That it should be so willing to betray Itself by shining.” And meanwhile in heaven The star, with eyes fixed only upon God, Sweeps through the stately circles of the skies In motion grand as silence; undisturbed And self-contained; not dreaming that below, A little wave whose tremulous young heart Has caught a little of its brightness, thinks To read and to interpret for itself The heavenly mysteries. Even so I hear Men call it strange that poets should reveal The sacred secrets of their inmost souls |
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