61. The Vesture of the Soul I PITIED one whose tattered dress
Was patched, and stained with dust and rain;
He smiled on me; I could not guess
The viewless spirit’s wide domain.


He said, “The royal robe I wear
Trails all along the fields of light:
Its silent blue and silver bear
For gems the starry dust of night.


“The breath of Joy unceasingly
Waves to and fro its folds starlit,
And far beyond earth’s misery
I live and breathe the joy of it.”

61. The Vesture of the Soul by George William Russell