Beloved, It Is Daybreak On The Hills

Beloved, it is daybreak on the hills. Dark glimmers and goes out in cloudy light. Faint on the marge of night the watchet dawn Lifts like a lily from a quiet water. And that within me which is consonant Is at its door to meet God’s infinite.

O Love, what banner shall we lift? And what Timbrel and incense bear? How shall we greet God’s day, his hills, his fire, and join their beauty? Voices reply that are no voice but breath: “Like beauty be thou nothing save his vesture.”