I recall one Winters night
in the high mountains
when the mystic peaks
shone like steel pins,
awe-inspiring in the moonlight
so that my tears flowed at the grand sight.
The heavens were alive with myriad
points of glittering light,
all quivering it seemed with joy unconcealed,
as if a vast, eternal love amongst then wheeled.
Who could not be deeply touched
gazing up into such immeasurable immensities;
a steadfast infinite radiant frieze./
What holy beauty,
'twas as if my soul received a holy kiss.
Such awe-which was not dread, but bliss./