In the black flower of midnight-at the heart
And midmost auricle of secrecy,
There lies the golden fire-seed that shall be
The day's broad blossom. Softly fall apart
The silken leaves of dreams; and lo! thou art,
Sweet morn of expectation, dewy-drest!
While all the spectres that the dark infest,
Soon as the East doth his keen lances dart,
Show angel faces. Why avert the shade-
The solemn vigil-the mysterious power,
Filling the soul with awe, stirring the clod,
Bidding the bones to quake? 'Tis thus arrayed
In dusky calyx lies heaven's shining flower.
Our Angel leads through gloom to show us God.