We walked in wonder there amongst the flowers, Passing white-clad devotees whose eyes Upon some inner world were fiercely set, Inhaled the incense rising towards the skies And by his tomb forgot the passing hours.
White-washed walls whose still solemnity Broken by cascading boughs in bloom The caw of crows, the workers sweeping leaves,- Yet all was stillness in the inner room As Grace descended through the Service Tree.
We have memories more magical than breath Or the rhythm of the slow heart's pulsing beat, We who lived in a laboratory of soul And climbed the soft white stairs with pilgrim feet To kneel before Her whose love would conquer death.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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