[SONG]
Her voice is vibrant beauty dipt
In dreams of infinite sorrow and delight.
Thro' an awaiting soul 'tis slipt
And lo, words spring that breathe immortal might.
[TO HER WHO SHALL COME]
1
Out of the night of lovelessness I call
Thee, as, in a chill chamber where no ray
Of unbelievable light and freedom fall,
Might cry one manacled! And tho' the way
Thou'lt come I cannot see; tho' my heart's sore
With emptiness when morning's silent gray
Wakes me to long aloneness; yet I know
Thou hast been with me, who like dawn wilt go
Beside me, when I have found thee, evermore!
2
So in the garden of my heart each day
I plant thee a flower. Now the pansy, peace,
And now the lily, faith—or now a spray
Of the climbing ivy, hope. And they ne'er cease
Around the still unblossoming rose of love
To bend in fragrant tribute to her sway.
Then—for thy shelter from life's sultrier suns,
The oak of strength I set o'er joy that runs
With brooklet glee from winds that grieve above.