Surprised to Joy

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What is the colour of silence?

Here presently co-occupied

Fire and rosary’s concrescence

Or shirt of flame thus belied?

 

What pattern the fret-saw begets

In knot-stitch broider’d relief

A surf-line that curves as it whets

sharply thrown stones of belief

 

Common be-cause with time’s passing

Caught in your fawn-liquid glance

Through hours our pow’rs thus amassing

Surprised to joy from this trance