Has somehow faded from me, and our roof
Among the date-palms, and my dial old,
Set in the myrtle plot that takes the sun.
But thou art close and real: thou hast seen
The Mystical, the Virgin-born: his name
Not Hyacinthus, but Emmanuel.
(Much have I startled thee, who art so brave!)
None shared with me that vision until now.
It was to Him I pledged my early troth,
Towards whom I live, for whom I look to die;