I lived with visions for my company

That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well.

About thee, as wild vines, about a tree,

If, what this said, I dared repeat at last !

Drop heavily down,--burst, shattered, everywhere !

As if Gods future thundered on my past.

And yet they seem alive and quivering

And this . . . O Love, thy words have ill availed

My soul with satisfaction of all wants:

This said,--he wished to have me in his sight

May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow,

I will not have my thoughts instead of thee

Before藏书网 thy saving kiss ! My own, my own,

As he, in his swooning ears, the choirs Amen.

In the upper life,--so I, with bosom-swell,

To come and touch my hand . . . a simple thing,

And let them drop down on my knee to-night.

Who camest to me when the world was gone,

Refer the cause ?--Beloved, is it thou

And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How

Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed

Because Gods gifts put mans best dreams to shame.

A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully

I think of thee !--my thoughts do twine and bud

Against my tremulous hands which loose the九-九-藏-书-网 string

Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare,

This said, I am thine--and so its ink has paled

The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when

Too vehement light dilated my ideal,

I do not think of thee--I am too near thee.

Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,

Instead of men and women, years ago,

Of this worlds dust, their lutes did silent grow,

Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same,

And I myself grew faint and blind below

I九九藏书 find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad.

A sweefer music than they played to me.

Met in thee, and from out thee overcame

From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown,

Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood

Beloved, dost thou love ? or did I see all

And I who looked for only God, found thee !

Shines out again, as all the angels see,

Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite

And breathe within thy shadow a new air,

On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow,

Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight,

Yet I wept for it !--this, . . . 99lib•netthe papers light . . .

Looks backward on the tedious time he had

Make witness, here, between the good and bad,

And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown

Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee

With Iying at my heart that beat too fast.

My letters ! all dead paper, mute and white !

As one who stands in dewless asphodel

And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know

And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee

I see thine image through my tears to-night,

But soon their trailing purple was not free

Except the stragg

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ling green which hides the wood.

Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should,

Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring

As river-water hallowed into fonts),

My own Beloved, who hast lifted me

Put out broad leaves, and soon there s nought to see

Who art dearer, better ! Rather, instantly

Or I, who makes me sad ? The acolyte

As now these tears come--falling hot and real ?

For my souls eyes ? Will that light come again,

Their vanishing eyes. Then THOU didst come--to be,