Fest. S. S. Trinitatis.
XII.
Fall back, all worlds, into the abyss,
That man may contemplate once more
That which He ever was Who is:—
The Eternal Essence we adore.
Angelic hierarchies! recede
Beyond extinct creation's shade!
What were ye at the first? Decreed:—
Decreed, not fashioned; thought, not made!
Like wind the untold Millenniums passed.
Sole-throned He sat; yet not alone:
Godhead in Godhead still was glassed;—
The Spirit was breathed from Sire and Son.
Prime Virgin, separate and sealed;
Nor less of social love the root;
Dimly in lowliest shapes revealed;
Entire in every Attribute;—
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Thou liv'st in all things, and around;
To Thee external is there nought;
Thou of the boundless art the bound;
And still Creation is Thy Thought.
In vain, O God, our wings we spread;
So distant art Thou—yet so nigh.
Remains but this, when all is said,
For Thee to live; in Thee to die.
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XIII.
Where is the crocus now, that first,
When earth was dark and heaven was grey,
A prothalamion flash, up-burst?
Ah, then we deemed not of the May!
The clear stream stagnates in its course;
Narcissus droops in pallid gloom;
Far off the hills of golden gorse
A dusk Saturnian face assume.
The seeded dandelion dim
Casts loose its air-globe on the breeze;
Along the grass the swallows skim;
The cattle couch among the trees.
Yet ever lordlier loveliness
Succeeds to that which slips our hold:
The thorn assumes her snowy dress;
Laburnum bowers their robes of gold.
Down waves successive of the year
We drop; but drop once more to rise,
With ampler view, as on we steer,
Of lovelier lights and loftier skies.