Vanish the outlines once so clear:—
I know thee more by faith than sight.
VI.
Upon my shoulder, lightly as a bird,
Her white hand lit: then back she fled, afraid;
Beside my seat once more she stood, nor stirred,
But loosed her hair, and round me dropped its shade.
Down to my feet it fell—a sudden night:
She spake, “Thy darkness and eclipse am I;
But thou my sunrise art, and all my light;