Cambridge Poets 1900–1913

J. C. Squire . Now do I burn for nothing more Than thus to gaze, thus to adore This exquisiteness of nature ever In silence . . . . But with instant light Rends the film ; with joy I quiver To see with new celestial sight Flower and leaf and grass and tree , Doomed barks on an eternal sea , Flit phantom -like as transient smoke . Beauty herself her spell has broke, Beauty, the herald and the lure, Her message told , may not endure ; Her portal opened , she has died , Supreme immortal suicide. Yes, sleepless nature soundless flings Invisible grapples round the soul, Drawing her through the web of things To the primal end of her journeyings , Her ultimate and constant pole . For Beauty with her hands that beckon Is but the Prophet of a Higher, A flaming and ephemeral beacon , A Phoenix perishing by fire . Herself from us herself estranges , Herself her mighty tale doth kill , That all things change yet nothing changes , That all things move yet all are still . 175