The veil was lifted once. I saw it rise:
Light shone in the gap like liquid song,
And I knew truly joy was right, I wrong,
Seeing again at last those iris skies--
And something broke, and glory took my eyes.
The grand world shook with joy for me,
As if its own grandeur from grandness must
Burst into dust; oh, but what glorious dust!
And dust, sweet dust, could please me utterly;
But beauty's wealth knew no such boundary.
Have you seen prism or pool throw beams a-wing,
Freely as stars or dandelion spores?
Wantonly waste what wide-eyed wonder stores,
Sell with never a thought for bartering?
Can beauty be so chaste a thing?
And it was good; and nothing else can match
The things pain's prism sees, when once it's gained;
And none can say he wished he'd not been pained
When once the veil is raised! But if dark snatch
The day again--dust is too fine to catch.
When glory known is glory snatched away,
When beauty's hid in weeds of widowhood,
Dare any stand and say, "'Tis all to good"?
Light, joy we've witnessed; but on the day
The dark comes creeping back--what can we say?