O day and night! O day and night! once, all unheeding,
By sun and summer wind with tender touch caressed,
I wandered where the strains, the sacred strains, were pleading,
And, kneeling in the fane, my thoughts to prayer addressed.
And softly rose the murmur'd organ mystery,
And swell'd around the colonnaded aisle,
Where smiled the pictured saints of holy history
On prostrate penitents who prayed the while:
I could not pray there, but I felt that God Himself might smile.
O day and night! O day and night! while I was kneeling
There came the strangest sense of some loved presence near;
A re-awakening rush of well-remembered feeling
Thrill'd thro' me, held me still, with vague expectant fear.
Half turn'd from me, there stood beside the altar,
Where incense-clouds nigh veiled him from my sight,
A fair-haired priest—my quicken'd heart-beats falter!
Or is he priest, or is he acolyte,
Or layman devotee who prays in novice robes bedight?
O day and night! O day and night! whence comes this feeling?
For all unreal seem day and night and life and death,
And all unreal the hope that sets my senses reeling,
And stills my pulse an instant, checks my lab'ring breath.
Yet louder rolls the mighty organ thund'ring.
And downward slopes a beam of light divine,
The perfumed clouds are cleft: he looks up wond'ring—
Looks up—what does he there before the shrine?
He could not give himself to God, for he is mine, is mine!
O day and night! O day and night! I go forth trembling,
He did not meet my eyes, he never saw my face.
My bosom swells with joy and jealousy resembling
A war of good and evil waged in a holy place.
No longer soft the day, the sun in splendour
Pours all his might upon this green incline;
I lie and watch the cirrus clouds surrender,
Their glowing forms to one hot kiss resign—
How could he give himself to God when he is mine, is mine?
O day and night! O day and night! beneath your glory
The crimson flood of life itself has turned to fire!
The rugged brows of those old rocks, storm-rent and hoary,
Are quivering in their grim surprise at my desire.
The mother earth, throbbing with pain and pleasure,
Would sink her voices for the languid noon,
But light airs wake a reckless madd'ning measure,
And wavelets dance and sparkle to the tune.
And mock the mocking malice of yon day-dimm'd gibbous moon.
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O day and night! O day and night! a fisher maiden
Is wand'ring up the path to where unseen I lie;
She comes with some light spoil from off the shore beladen.
And softly singing of the sea goes slowly by.
And slowly rise great sun-tipped white cloud masses,
Sublimely still their shadows flit and flee:
How silently the work of nature passes—
The roll of worlds, the growth of flower and tree!
Angels of God in heaven! give him to me! give him to me!
O day and night! O day and night! the hours rolling
Bring ev'ry one its change, its song, or chant, or chime:
Now solemnly their sounds a distant death-knell tolling.
And now the bells above beat forth the flight of time.
I lie, unconsciously each trifle noting,
The far-off sailors toiling on the quay,
Or o'er the sand a broad-wing'd sea-bird floating,
Or passing hum of honey-laden'd bee—
Angels of God in heaven! give him to me! give him to me!
O day and night! O day and night! the scene surrounding
Grows dim and all unreal beneath the sunset glow;
And all the heat and rage pass into peace abounding,
I moan, I fear no more, but wait, while still tears flow.
The warm sweet airs scarce move the flowerets slender,
A pause and hush have settled on the sea,
A bird trills forth its love-song low and tender:
O bird rejoice! thy love and thou art free-
Angels of God in heaven! give him to me! give him to me!
* * * * *