Sunlight is full of age. Ah, so old! Older than any sage Has ever told!
The draught our Lord quaffed up To the bloody lees; The aching hemlock cup Of Socrates.
It is a golden sword; The veil of the Grail; The unfathomable Word That will not fail.
Along a summer street It often lies Shimmering to repeat Immortal paradise.
As a mountain lake can mirror The exalted with the near, Heaven's wonder and terror — Both shine here.
It says all things in nought; And, saying them, passes To gild like gentle thought Trees and grasses.
It sways upon the ocean Like a god asleep Where the waves’ wandering motion Hides the deep.
It shafts through forest aisles Like miracle; It trembles and smiles On the lip of Hell.
It has touched Greece and Rome And Persia's might — And stirs the vines of home With flickering light.
It lay on Cain's hot neck As he stooped to slay. David's stone from the beck Glittered its day.
Cleopatra gazed upon it Through shadowed lids. High halls they built to shun it In the Pyramids.
It opens babies’ hands That crawl to snatch its beams. Through hovels in ancient lands Its splendor streams.
Eternal wells of light Its largeness shows. There shall be no more night Its conscience knows.
It is a smiling stranger, A fainting hour, Love and peace and danger And the mock of power.
Yet have I said no word Of what it is. Only — my heart is stirred By its mysteries!
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