The voice, angelic, sings beyond the sealed door
Draws its tune from Prescences profound,
From Beings not in this world found;
A gift conferred to none before,
As treasures from the Deeps to shore.
Her notes align to build the sound
That enfolds the mystic all around,
That skywards lifts her eyes once more.
Given to God while yet a child,
Hildegard's world was made of faith;
He life a-crowd with visions.
She endured their incandescence wild
Within her head, and proved such wraiths
May make a Heaven of their prisons.