I You who have shared the sunset with me, known Tranquillities of tone, Cathedral me in thought, be architect, And out of silences erect A temple where we two may stand alone. And love will be the pontiff of our peace, And beauty without cease Will stain the bleeding oriels; night will glow With candles: we will know The pressure of cool hands and long release. II When the fires of thought are low and burned away, And one bird ripples to the bronzing west, And hearthlight flickers with the fading day Against the shadows in the room of rest, And quiet things are like your hands caressed: Then when the air is smoothed to more than sleep In a fine agitation of all sense, Loosen the beautiful silence that you keep Locked in the cool cave of deliverance And whelm me in a velvet violence. Hands that have never failed me in the hour Of my most tranquil need, be on my head The speechless benediction of a flower Fallen from a garland of the dead, And let no word be contemplate or said. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUT FROM BEHIND THIS MASK by WALT WHITMAN MODERN MANNERS by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK LILIES: 26. THE PSYCHE-SERVICE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE SEA DREAM by WILLIAM ROSE BENET LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE ARTIST by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: MISANTHROPOS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |