FORM

by: Eva Gore-Booth (1870-1926)

      HE BURIED statue through the marble gleams,
      Praying for freedom, an unwilling guest,
      Yet flooding with the light of her strange dreams
      The hard stone folded round her uncarved breast.
       
      Founded in granite, wrapped in serpentine,
      Light of all life and heart of every storm,
      Doth the uncarven image, the Divine,
      Deep in the heart of each man, wait for form.

"Form" is reprinted from The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. Ed. Nicholson & Lee. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1917.

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