Shed from Her shoulders whom I dimly saw;
Crowned with twelve stars and hornéd as the moon;
Clothed with a sun to which the sun of earth
Were tinsel; and the moon was at Her feet—
A moon whose brilliance breaks the sword of song
Into a million fragments; so transcends
Music, that starlight-sandalled majesty!
Then—shall I contemplate the face of Her?
O Nature! Self-begotten! Spouse of God,
The Glory of thy Countenance unveiled!