Only to the simple or the very wise Or those who, having hungered long, are fed Does heaven open this side paradise And give its glory to their daily bread. Of these am I -- never wise, my candor gone, But one long hungered, now in you content; And I have seen God moving in the dawn When our communion was His sacrament. My silence would more fitly meet your own, But the words press -- that you will leave unread Though not unsmiled at. Never am I alone When you are whom I seek. Uncomforted, You do not thrust me out. If nights are deep I care no longer; on your arm I sleep. |