You are that belovèd air
Which, o'er all the chiming
Of music or of rhyming,
Reconciles my long despair.
You are that belovèd sight
Which, beyond life's fairest
Or rich beauty's rarest,
Fills my heart with true delight.
You are that belovèd place
Where, past all the portals
To the pomp of mortals,
Love perceives the courts of grace,
And what splendors more,—ah, well!
Though I often fashion
Songs of praise and passion,
Now—I look—but cannot tell!
DREAM AND DEED
All day long I am fashioning crowns,
Crowns of great price for you!
What do I fashion them of?
Opals and pearls of the dew,
Diamonds of old renowns,
Blazing rubies of love,
And gold from the heart of the golden sun, brought down
by a sunset djinn,—
Brighter gold, purer gold than ever gleamed under
Andvari's fin!
All day long I am tempering swords,
Swords for my thought to wield!
What is the steel I true,
And how is their splendor annealed?
High dreams, to slay evil hordes,
And flaming thoughts of you
That light my dark heart from their white-hot forge—
a glory to take one's breath—
Like the dove-gray, rose-faint veils of faith you wind
round the skull of death!
But when was a sword or a crown
For praise or for honor meet,
When the truth transcends, and sees
Knighthood kneeling at your feet?
In the darkness they go down!
There is better trust in these:
Set teeth, and the furious will to strive through the dust
of the world for you;
The hardly builded house of deeds each day, that must
prove me true!
A TAPER OF INCENSE
You are a bannered balcony
Of God's heraldic house,
Waving above the dinning throng of the days
Pennants of purple and oriflammes of crimson
And cloths of gold.
Your varying device is on every shining shield
Of the brilliant row that flames beneath the eaves
Of that house whose street is cobbled with silver clouds.