for Tamsin
Not angels these; although
Their melody and flight
Subsume the world, their wings
Substantiating light.
This man whom inwardness
And gracious thought have blessed,
Possessing nothing, knows
Both ear and eye possessed.
Their being crowds against
His gates of sense: to move
Into the mind, where language
Declares the movement love,
Though love is his, not theirs.
They, living beyond reach,
Indifferent to meaning,
Are made anew in speech.