The low-voiced girls that go <br /> In gardens of the Lord, <br />Like flowers of the field they grow <br /> In sisterly accord. <br /> <br />Their whispering feet are white <br /> Along the leafy ways; <br />They go in whirls of light <br /> Too beautiful for praise. <br /> <br />And in their band forsooth <br /> Is one to set me free -- <br />The one that touched my youth -- <br /> The one God gave to me. <br /> <br />She kindles the desire <br /> Whereby the gods survive -- <br />The white ideal fire <br /> That keeps my soul alive. <br /> <br />Now at the wondrous hour, <br /> She leaves her star supreme, <br />And comes in the night's still power, <br /> To touch me with a dream. <br /> <br />Sibyl of mystery <br /> On roads unknown to men, <br />Softly she comes to me, <br /> And goes to God again.<br /><br />Edwin Markham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-invisible-bride/
