—April 19, 1886.
With the Gods
Sweet lengths of shore with sea between,
Sweet gleams of tender blue and green,
Sweet wind caressive and unseen,
Soft breathing from the deep;
What joy have I in all sweet things;
How clear and bright my spirit sings;
Rising aloft on mystic wings;
While sense and body sleep.
In some such dream of grace and light,
My soul shall pass into the sight
Of the dear Gods who in the height
Of inward being dwell;
And joyful at Her perfect feet
Whom most of all I long to greet,
My soul shall lie in meadow sweet
All white with asphodel.
—August 31, 1887.
Part II. Dream-Stories
I. A Village of Seers—
A Christmas Story
A day or two before Christmas, a few years since, I found myself compelled by business to leave England for the Continent.