The Nun - Poem by Isaac Rosenberg
So thy soul's meekness shrinks,
Too loth to show her face-
Why should she shun the world ?
It is a holy place.
Concealed to itself
If the flower kept its scent,
Of itself amorous,
Less rich its ornament.
Use-utmost in each kind-
Is beauty, truth in one,
While soul rays light to soul
In one God-linked sun.
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