SANCTUARY.
Let ur put by some hour of every day, Tor holy things!—whether it be when
dawn Peers through the window-pane, or
when the noon Flames, like a burnished topaz, in the
vault, Or when the thrush pours in the ear
of eve Its plaintive monody; some little hour Wherein to hold rapt converse with
the soul, From sordidness and self a sanctuary, Swept by the winnowing of unseen
wings, And touched by the White Light Ineffable!
—Clinton Scollard.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/WHIRIB19271218.2.40
Bibliographic details
White Ribbon, Volume 33, Issue 389, 18 December 1927, Page 15
Word Count
79SANCTUARY. White Ribbon, Volume 33, Issue 389, 18 December 1927, Page 15
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