The Breeze

There was then movement, the gentlest of breezes
Which as it crossed the plain, fanned hot the flame,
It directs, shows the path as it teases;
Path toward two rises; they are the same?
Yes, the same, they stand erect in glory,
As two guides pointing the way to the prize,
Which lies southward yet; wondrous story
Of comfort and love to one who there lies.
On it moves again and part'th thick bush.
Growth that hides; the cavern deep of the mound.
It gently approaches; with a short push,
The key is discovered, the entranceway found.
All loses meaning; time has no measure,
As it moves to that channel of pleasure.