How earth-strange on the ethereal way
Travels the first wing-carillon
A-tremble with the silver dawn
Ere rush the golden day!
Across slow-widening brightness, still
A dim-disclosured secrecy,
Quivers the foliage-tracery
Apart, inscrutable.
As though their breath was made divine
By dew of contemplative hours,
There hangs an aura round the flowers
A nameless shadow-shine.
The heart, a hovering consciousness,
Thrills on some paradisal verge
As if awakening to merge
With beauty sorrowless.
Familiar hues are yet unborn,
A veil half-hiding them lays bare,
Shimmering through the mystic air,
An alchemy of morn,
Wherein the sense of earthly eyes
If soul could only learn to steep,
Out of the human dross of sleep
A golden god would rise!
-Amal Kiran
Travels the first wing-carillon
A-tremble with the silver dawn
Ere rush the golden day!
Across slow-widening brightness, still
A dim-disclosured secrecy,
Quivers the foliage-tracery
Apart, inscrutable.
As though their breath was made divine
By dew of contemplative hours,
There hangs an aura round the flowers
A nameless shadow-shine.
The heart, a hovering consciousness,
Thrills on some paradisal verge
As if awakening to merge
With beauty sorrowless.
Familiar hues are yet unborn,
A veil half-hiding them lays bare,
Shimmering through the mystic air,
An alchemy of morn,
Wherein the sense of earthly eyes
If soul could only learn to steep,
Out of the human dross of sleep
A golden god would rise!
-Amal Kiran
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