Only the undreamt dream knows significance, Only the vision we do not see has essential form; Beauty is a vision imperfectly seen, Beauty is the sound our ears hear only partly. There is a stillness in the heart of sound. Let me escape into that stillness Which is Nothing and Everything; Let me escape from the sharp pain of Beauty For Beauty is a sword that pierces the heart; Then shall I be the End and the Beginning, Then shall I be Myself and Everyone And also No one. Beauty will not exist … Beauty is here and now, It is not hereafter … The Water Flows THE water flows Peacefully along … Under the trees Like a song Unsung. Peacefully the water flows Under the trees, Brown water deep and cool, Like beautiful words That no one has said. For the lips that might have spoken them Are dead, But the words are there still In the stream, Carried along With the silent song … Gentle winding stream Under the trees, You are like a dream That might have been dreamt But the dreamer awoke Too soon … The dream is here In the stream, Carried along With the song And the words That are too lovely to be said.
