Bending in kindness o'er him.
Calmly still,
Although to ecstasy his being drank,
The fathomless, pure music of the voice
Heard in that visioned hour, as once again
He stood by the low portal of the home
Of Mary. He passed in with noiseless step.
Through the dim vine-leaves of the lattice
Not a moonbeam fell, and yet a softer ray
Than ever streamed from alabaster lamps,