from Take Me To Church

Down the morning came
from heaven's mane
in glittering vision of seraphic fire
that tongued the mortal altar's lyre
and twined the blushing fruits of morn
among the dark Sinaitic storm.
Long the shadow deep infixt
amid the gloam of tow'ring years
conversed within mine essence wild,
Dis Pater's child,
and quenched the sum thought of arrears.
O sacred dusk! Pangs of life amid the gloam.
Descanted in the air
the intimation of the dove;
plashed lightnings, the dark Adamic void.
Long, and in these bowers dript with running wine
I sought thy face,
twinned ecstasy with sempiternal thought
in a glad haunt
and oracled the wings of morn.
Look for me not here, not here
when the flashing panoply sings above.

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