Yet it was not a human being whole
That thus was carried upward to the light.
Nought was it but the shadow of a soul,
Which could but rhapsodize of spirit-realms
And feel a oneness with creative powers;
It wished to live all blissful in the light
And deeds of light in colour to behold;
It fancied that as artist it could paint
Spirit-existence in a world of sense.
This form that took its semblance from mine own