XI.
But the white dove’s aspect childly, and his soft eyes beaming mildly,
Loving looks, as if a full heart speedily he would outpour,
Led me to expect revealing, unto which my soul appealing,—
With a strange hope o’er me stealing, such as never came before,—
“May I look for peace and comfort such as I’ve ne’er felt before?”
And the bird said, “Evermore!”
XII.
So the bright bird thus beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheel’d a cushion’d chair in front of bird and bust and door;