Its azure curtains, and a fragrant light
Stole down, o’er glittering walks of gems and gold —
The veil was lifted from her mortal sight,
And one beside her stood, of air and mien
Familiar, like the forms our dreams have seen.
“Mine own I claim thee; thou at length hast heard
And known the voice with which I wooed thee first,
In life’s young morn. Though oft thy soul hath stirred,
Echoing the strains that from my lyre have burst,
Still too forgetful of the world of bliss,