XXXII.
Art thou near me? nearer! so—
Kiss me close upon the eyes,
That the earthly light may go
Sweetly, as it used to rise
When I watched the morning-grey
Strike, betwixt the hills, the way
He was sure to come that day.
XXXIII.
So,—no more vain words be said!
The hosannas nearer roll.
Mother, smile now on thy Dead,
I am death-strong in my soul.
Mystic Dove alit on cross,
Guide the poor bird of the snows
Through the snow-wind above loss!
XXXIV.
Jesus, Victim, comprehending
Love's divine self-abnegation,
Cleanse my love in its self-spending,
And absorb the poor libation!
Wind my thread of life up higher,
Up, through angels' hands of fire!
I aspire while I expire.
LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP:
A ROMANCE OF THE AGE.
A Poet writes to his Friend. Place—A Room in Wycombe Hall. Time—Late in the evening.
I.