Smooth as a ship that takes
A silken sea I ride
Into the half-forgotten world
Of earth and sky outside.
Nothing there is too small,
Too large to hold and press
Deep, deep into the warm cocoon
Of my new-born consciousness.
White hens with scarlet combs
Treading the roadside grass;
Tatters of gold on totem-trees;
Clouds splintered like mirror-glass;
And, startling as a shout,
A yacca late in flower
Lifting on high pale bell on bell,
A trembling carven tower.
O tree of ivory!
O image of delight!
A warm effulgence now will fill
The darkest depths of night.
For beauty's shape ensnared
In a moment's joy lives on
As the song of a bird stays in the air
When the song is done.
First published in The Bulletin, 2 October 1957
