New wonder, with old splendor let us bind
Our hearts when Love's high sacrament begins.

Exalt my soul with pomp and pageantry,
Sing the eternal songs all lovers sing;
Yea, when you come, gold let our vestments be,
And lamps of silver let us softly swing.

But if at last, (hark how I whisper, Love!)
You from my temple and from me should turn,
I pray you chant no psalm my grief above,
Over the body of Pain let no light burn.

Go forth in silence, quiet as a dove,
Drift, with no sign, from our exultant place;
We need no `Ite' at the death of Love,
And none should come to look on Love's white face.




Grey Rocks, and Greyer Sea. [Charles G. D. Roberts]



Grey rocks, and greyer sea,
And surf along the shore --
And in my heart a name
My lips shall speak no more.