Jephthah and Other Mysteries

xii DEDICATION. That even my song may pierce the iron night, Invoking dawn in thy great name, O Master! Till to the stainless heaven of the soul Even my chariot-wheels on thunder roll. And so, most sacred soul, most reverend head, The silence of deep midnight shall be bound, And with the mighty concourse of the dead That live, that contemplate, my place be found, Even mine, through all the seasons that are shed Like leaves upon the darkness, where the sound Of all high song through calm eternity Shall beat and boom, thine own maternal sea. For in the formless world, so swift a fire Shall burn, that fire shall not be comprehended ; So deep a music roll, that our desire Shall hear no sound ; shall beam a light so splendid That darkness shall be infinite: the lyre Fashioned of truth, strung with men’s heart-strings | blended, Shall sound as silence: and all souls be still In wisdom’s high communion with will.