The bread that's broken when we eat together br Tastes sweet. A sunbeam stealing to your hand br Seems as if spilled from something brimming over br Within me, wanting no word, or itself br The word I wanted! Find we not our own br Language in winds, fresh from a golden place, br When breasting the high down at last we turn br To each other, bright with rapturous escape, br And the hills sing together, like our hearts, br Lost in the light! Between us, as we walk br Green roadsides, under homely hedgerow elms br Of summer leaf, silences are as water br Smooth for the sail and shining to the verge, br But intimate as a hand's touch when we pace br Long crowded pavements amber--lamped in dusk br That holds its dark breath over the gay talk, br Bright eyes, and grief buried in moving sound. br There is a secret colour that has dyed br The world within our hearts: none knows it else, br No more than that which thickens the flushed light br Deep in the foxglove's honey--throat; it is there br In the midst of light speech and forgetfulness, br In the empty house of absence, where the walls br Echo other voices; it is in the midst br Of the unsaid fears the mind plots forts against, br In the dragging thought and drizzle of blank care, br The daily doing of what must be done; br Then suddenly it glows and bathes us like the sun.