Aaron

I am the Seer: for in you I see The fair unfolding of a secret flower, The pomp and pageant of eternal power, The crown and pride of your high destiny. I am the Prophet: this your prophecy— Your deeds and Heaven’s fill the echoing hour, The Splendour of all splendours for your dower Is given, a witness of the things to be. I am the Poet, but I cannot sing Of your dear worth, or mortal or divine; No music hidden in any song of mine Can give you praise; yet the trimmed rod I bring To you, O Temple, asking, for a sign, That in the morn it may be blossoming.