380. Intimations

I THINK that in the savour of some flowers

God hides the loveliness we fain would know;

And that He makes it poignant with His showers

To lure us on toward what He longs to show.

I know He seeks in tiny wistful airs

To give my soul bright gleams of what shall be,

And that in plainsong endings quick despairs

Glitter like angels o’er a shadowed sea.

There is no thing God may not make His own

That smelleth sweet and is of good report.…

The leastest thing that we have longest known

May truth reveal beyond the range of thought.

And so each tiniest act and merest ploy

May grow instinct with sacramental joy!