3 At the Cavern Mouth

About the silence of the cavern mouth
The briar-roses and the green pines grow
The water trickles down across the stones
Under the early sun the small streams shine.

This glistening world that all five senses praise
Holds deep within its side the ancient wound,
And fruit of unimaginable fire
Ripen in gentleness upon its bough.

While light slants through the rags of mist that hang
Down from the mountain-side and lace the trees
Stillness and glory, brown and green are poised
Like a wild bird upon a forest top.

Nor comes upon them yet the reed-like voice,
Bringer of dissolution and renewal.
The whistling words through distant passage-ways
Rise slowly to their utterance on earth
Towards the cave whose mossy sides await
The sceptred spirit born amid the flames.