By George Sterling
Sweetly within my heart, hushed otherwise, Thy voice in crystal echo ever rings, A music wherewith insubstantial things To wordless pain and hidden rapture rise. Never can I attain thee! Love denies His reddest rose to him who saddest sings: His joy is to the joyous, and his wings Falter and fail when Hope forsakes the skies. Yet loss no more can matter: I have seen! Tho love and life deny me, thou art thou— Now with thy light my lonely heavens fill. Oh! from thy secret tower earthward lean, To bless me with the glory of thy brow— A star my soul shall worship, and be still.
Written in Sag Harbor.