Sometimes when Eastern carpets wear so thin Their borders lie like fringes on the floor And even palace feet seem almost more Than the frail dreams and legends held within Mere thread and silk can bear, we begin For the first time to see a deeper store Of meaning in the place that had before Shown nothing where a meaning should have been. Perhaps what seems futility in her Was, after all, the final strength of race Which, less flamboyant as it wins its goal, Became expressive of the things that were For each of us the highest certain grace -- The ultimate design of his own soul. |