I SAID: “Blue heaven” (Oh, it was beautiful!),
“Send me a tent to shut me to myself:
I am all lonely for my soul, that wanders
Weary, bewildered, beckoned by thy depths;
Thy white, round clouds, great bubbles of creamy snow;
Thy luscious sunshine, like some ripe, gold fruit;
Thy songs of birds, and wind warm with the flowers.”
And there swept down (Oh, it was beautiful!)
A tent of silver rain, that fell like a veil
Shutting me in to think all quiet thoughts,
And feel the vibrant thrill of shadowy wings
That fluttered, checking their swift flight, and hear,
Though with no syllable of earthly music,
A voice of melody unutterable.
(Edward Rowland Sill)
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