'Till We Have Faces

Drawn forth in bronze blood of dapple-boldened dew-light,
A glance truth forward fierces ‘neath a flash of fire folded, moon-molded
Golden red,
Bright in sun-glint and starren glades, glistering-glazed
In grieving-blissful grey; A gaze
Sorrow-deep and struck in silver as sung spheres
Wrung light with laughter
Proclaims in hush that pause flush forth in flourish
And fling on whirlwind wing a song of sounding
Wound, resounding
As wisps at wondering Western sky bear broad and brief
A piercing tone of precious measure
— As He who comes clear
Follows, hallows, herds homeward after —
Thy visage vivid-traced of tender starlight piered,
In sheer glass gleans
The glare of that most gracious eye.