From which twin church spires spin like fireless flame.
Behold! the west has opened. Bless you, Day!
You would be gracious to me? You would stay?
And all the sky is flecked with tumbled light,
Wave beating upon wave, outbreasting night,
Up-wrapped as in a glory I do feel
Seeing outflung the roses of Castile!
XXVII
’Tis only these our bodies that are near!
Our souls are sphered in two far heavens of space