An Opal.
68
A wondrous thought, that in primeval gloom
Burst, like a blossom, into sudden bloom,
A prophet's instinct, that 'mid chaos knew
How suns would kiss a future drop of dew.
Burst, like a blossom, into sudden bloom,
A prophet's instinct, that 'mid chaos knew
How suns would kiss a future drop of dew.
A need of light, which, focussed in the dark,
Lit by suggestion this miraculous spark,
Within whose matrix of strange fibres spun
Is stored the secret essence of the sun.
Was it some tincture ignorantly spilled
Into earth's crucible? or did a skilled
Alchemist pity on the fused mass take
And, smiling, add it for its beauty's sake?
Lit by suggestion this miraculous spark,
Within whose matrix of strange fibres spun
Is stored the secret essence of the sun.
Was it some tincture ignorantly spilled
Into earth's crucible? or did a skilled
Alchemist pity on the fused mass take
And, smiling, add it for its beauty's sake?
Mysterious as the spiritual flowers that flame
Through human souls and passionately claim
Kinship with beauty, incoherent as the gleams
Of intuition in a poet's dreams,
Yet eloquent of an unfailing source.
And could we trace the deeply hidden course
Of the beautiful to beauty, we might find
The meaning of an opal and a human mind.
Through human souls and passionately claim
Kinship with beauty, incoherent as the gleams
Of intuition in a poet's dreams,
Yet eloquent of an unfailing source.
And could we trace the deeply hidden course
Of the beautiful to beauty, we might find
The meaning of an opal and a human mind.
