Adoring

The real luxury of mind and of heart
does not show, not that it hides, but that it
has such discretion as lets it abide
and so to become innermost abode

what shines within, what serves within reveals
unrivaled realms charged with calm ecstasy,
places of private possession that can’t
be reached except though steep contemplation

it’s raining, it’s pouring in merry May
this old man’s adoring and not snoring
he plucks the strings of his joys and sorrows
grace is the sense of inner abandon

this freedom to feel has its own appeal,
it resonates with what can’t be repealed