THE STILL TRYST.
How love transcends our mortal sphere,
And sees again the spirit-world,
Forgot so daily. Thou art here;—
I know thee, sweet—though fair impearled
Thy face in a far atmosphere
To others,—hearing in the sea
My love a-crying up to thee.
Thou by the surf, I on the lake:—
Yet in the real world we meet;
And O, for thy endearéd sake,
Love, all I am is at thy feet.
With thy life let me breathing take,
And through all nature do thou see
My love a-crying up to thee.
And with thine eyes shall I pursue
Yon shower-veils from the sunset flying,
Blown mid clouds white and lurid-blue
That crowd the rainbow's arch, defying
Him who in red death shoots them through.
Look with me; in this pageant see
My love all glowing up to thee.
See what I see, hear what I hear,
I too am with thee by the wave—
One all the day, the hour, the year:
Our trust of love shall be so brave,
We shall deny that death is here
Or any power in the grave.
I know thee; thou canst love like this;
Be ours the endless spirit-kiss.
Dusk falls. How purely shines that star,
Concealed while day was in the sky;
Life, love and thou not mortal are,
Though atheist noon your world deny.
Dusk falls:—though in the west a bar
Of bloom on evening's pure cheek be;
In beauty thy love cries to me.