In the Oratory

Arthur Symons

1865 to 1945

Poem Image
Track 1

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And infinitely far away.
Expecting the divine event.
Robed priests before the altar bowed,
Brooded, mysteriously alone,
Inexplicable eyes that drew
That seals my doom or conquers thee?
Demand, new Sphinx, the fatal clue
Her dark face, calm as carven stone.
She knelt in prayer; large lids serene
Rose, by a mighty hand set free,
The incense mounted like a cloud,
Lay heavy on the sombre eyes,
Thundered Beethoven’s Mass in C.
Then silence, like a prisoner bound,
As though to veil some vision seen
A golden cloud of languid scent;
The face that twilight shows the day,
And dazzlingly, in shafts of sound,
Mine eyes adoring, why from me
Upon the mounts of Paradise.

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