Classic Poem

Though there are miracles in time and space
More eloquent of immortality
Than these your hands in their devout embrace,
Than these your eyes in their blue clarity,
Yet, when the assuaging beauty of your face
Falls murmuring on my soul like summer rain
Stilling within the precincts of your grace
The pulse and fever of the world-old pain,

Then, howsoever in the outerness
A spirit immanent beyond the seas
Sheds ceaseless glory through the Infinite,
I hail in you a miracle no less
Than all the marvel of the Pleiades,
And all the chroniclings of Holy Writ!