I bless the hand that once held mine,
The lips that said:
No heart, though kiss were Circe’s wine,
Can long be comforted.
Ay, if we’d talked day in, night out,
Of all life marvels at-
One secret, soul can utter not,
Nor self to self relate.
We gazed, enravished, thou and I,
As flower might at flower;
But speechless stayed, past even a sigh.
Not even Babel Tower
Heard language strange and sweet enough
To tell that moment’s peace,
Where broods the Phoenix, timeless Love,
And divine silence is.