28
My spirit kisseth thine,
My spirit embraceth thee:
I feel thy being twine
Her graces over me,
In the life-kindling fold
Of God’s breath; where on high,
In furthest space untold
Like a lost world I lie:
And o’er my dreaming plains
Lightens, most pale and fair,
A moon that never wanes;
Or more, if I compare,
Like what the shepherd sees
On late mid-winter dawns,
When thro’ the branchèd trees,
O’er the white-frosted lawns,
The huge unclouded sun,
Surprising the world whist,
Is all uprisen thereon,
Golden with melting mist.