A clearing in the forest of the world,

Where no wind blows, but sun

Shines warm through afternoons that lie

Beyond the touch of Time - here is the one

Sure dwelling-place of Peace,

Who waited for our crossing Through the springs

Of year on year - who gravely smiles

At our dear names for things

And it is she who lays enchantment

On the wood, who slumbers, to awake

When we have come.

And bless the place we take.

This is a dream we have

Willing the life that is a dream

Here silence is a healing spirit,

And words more than they seem.

Here there is time to think,

And time to talk, to feel beneath our hands

The hours that throb away,

And know that nothing matters - it is this

To touch a heart that understands.

This is that shining city of the mind

Toward which men go,

Wherein the whisper and the stir

Of secret loneliness long kept, comes slow

To being, in a word

That beats like a banner flung into the wind,

Because you heard.