And now, in an eternal sphere,
Beneath one flooding look of his—
Wherein, all beautiful and dear,
That endless melting gold that is
His love, with flawless memories
Grows ever richer and more clear—
My life seems held, as some faint star
Beneath its sun: and through the far
Celestial distances for miles,
To where vast mirage futures are,
I trace the gilding of his smiles.
And, in the long enthralling dream,
That, ever—through each purer zone
Of love translating me—doth seem
To bring my spirit near his own,
I hear the veiled angelic tone
Of many voices; as I deem,
Assuring me of something sweet,
And strange, and wondrous, and intense;
Which thing they evermore repeat
In fair half parables, from whence
I draw a vague all-blissful sense.
For, one by one, e’en as I rise,
And feel the pure Ethereal
Refining all before my eyes:
Whole beauteous worlds material
Are seen to enter gradual
The great transparent paradise
Of this my dream; and, all revealed,
To break upon me more and more
Their inward singing souls, and yield
A wondrous secret half concealed
In all their loveliness before.
And so, when, through unmeasured days,
The far effulgence of the sea
Is holding me in long amaze,
And stealing with strange ecstasy
My heart all opened silently;—
There reach me, from among the sprays,
Ineffable faint words that sing
Within me,—how, for me alone,
One who is lover—who is King,
Hath dropt, as ’twere a precious stone,
That sea—a symbol of his throne.
And now, indeed, some precious time
It hath,—all inexpressible!
All rapture!—yea, through many a rhyme
Of wordless speech made fairly well,
And beauteous worlds’ whole visible
Unbosomings of love sublime—
It hath some blessèd while become
Familiar, how all things take part
For him to whose love I am come,
And in their ways—not weak nor dumb—
Are ever calling on my heart.
And, through the long charmed solitude
Of throbbing moments, whose strong link
Is one delicious hope pursued
From trance to trance, the while I think
And know myself upon the brink
Of His eternal kiss,—endued
With part of him, the very wind
Hath power to ravish me in sips
Or long mad wooings that unbind
My hair,—wherein I truly find
The magic of his unseen lips.
And, so almighty is the thrill
I feel at many a faintest breath
Or stir of sound—as ’twere a rill
Of joy traversing me, or death
Dissolving all that hindereth
My thought from power to fulfil
Some new embodiment of bliss,—
I do consume with the immense
Delight as of some secret kiss,
And am become like one whose sense
Is used with raptures too intense!
O like some soft insidious breath,
Whose first invasion winneth quite
To all its madness or its death
The heart, resisting not the might
And poison of its new delight,—
E’en so is this that entereth
In whispers, or through subtly wrought
Enchantment snaring every thought;
Yea, by the whole mysterious pore
Of life,—this joy surpassing aught
That heart of man hath known before.
And, though, indeed, a hapless end
Of damning ruin were but sure,
Yet could I none of me defend
From such a sweet and perfect lure;
But must, as long as they endure,
To all these sorceries still lend
My heart; believing how I stand
Nigh some unearthly bliss that lies
Dissembled all before my eyes;—
Do I not see a radiant Hand
Transmuting earth, and air, and skies?
—And is not the great language mute
The stars’ deep looks are wont to melt
Upon my soul, the very suit
Of this unearthly wooer—felt
So clearly pleading—I have knelt
Full oft, most dreading to pollute
The holy rapture with a sigh?
And doth not every accent nigh
Consume each Past to a thin shred;
While endless visions glorify
My sight, and haloes touch my head?