Windows At Chatres

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Spiritual colour in dimness angel--high,
The very Light made flesh! It is as though
Blood throbbed and blanched and fired to feel the flow
Of thought within the veins, or ecstasy
Live in one still drop. What leaf's juice could dye
That clear, clear green of paradise, what glow
Within the vine's black purples deepen so,
Meshed in the blue of coldly--burning sky?

Light for its crystal body has put on
Unearthly glory of verdure and of air
At dawn, and bright in mystery the flame
As of a heart eternal pulsing there.
O, earth and sky were needing a new name
When I came out into the simple sun.

© Robert Laurence Binyon