Aaron
I am the Seer: for in you I see
The fair unfolding of a secret flower,
The pomp and pageant of eternal power,
The crown and pride of your high destiny.
I am the Prophet: this your prophecy—
Your deeds and Heaven’s fill the echoing hour,
The Splendour of all splendours for your dower
Is given, a witness of the things to be.
I am the Poet, but I cannot sing
Of your dear worth, or mortal or divine;
No music hidden in any song of mine
Can give you praise; yet the trimmed rod I bring
To you, O Temple, asking, for a sign,
That in the morn it may be blossoming.
