Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.

17. The Divine Vision

THIS mood hath known all beauty, for it sees

O’erwhelmed majesties

In these pale forms, and kingly crowns of gold

On brows no longer bold,

And through the shadowy terrors of their hell

The love for which they fell,

And how desire which cast them in the deep

Called God too from His sleep.

Oh, Pity, only seer, who looking through

A heart melted like dew,

Seest the long perished in the present thus,

For ever dwell in us.

Whatever time thy golden eyelids ope

They travel to a hope;

Not only backward from these low degrees

To starry dynasties,

But, looking far where now the silence owns

And rules from empty thrones,

Thou seest the enchanted hills of heaven burn

For joy at our return.

Thy tender kiss hath memory we are kings

For all our wanderings.

Thy shining eyes already see the after

In hidden light and laughter.