The sun was gone now. The curled moon Was like a little feather Fluttering far down the gulf. And now "I wish that he were come to me, Lord, Lord, has he not prayed? - on earth, Are not two prayers a perfect strength? "When round his head the aureole clings, And he is clothed in white, I'll take his hand and go with him And we will step down as to a stream, "We two will stand beside that shrine, "We two will lie i' the shadow of That living mystic tree, Within whose secret growth the Dove Is sometimes felt to be, While every leaf that His plumes touch "And I myself will teach to him, I myself, lying so, The songs I sing here; which his voice Shall pause in, hushed and slow, And find some knowledge at each pause, Or some new thing to know." (Ah sweet! Just now, in that bird's song, Strove not her accents there Fain to be hearkened? When those bells Possessed the midday air, Was she not stepping to my side "We two," she said, "will seek the groves Where the Lady Mary is, With her five handmaidens, whose names "Circlewise sit they, with bound locks And foreheads garlanded; Into the fine cloth white like flame To fashion the birth-robes for them "He shall fear, haply, and be dumb; Then I will lay my cheek To his, and tell about our love, Not once abashed or weak; "Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, And angels meeting us shall sing "There will I ask of Christ the Lord She gazed, and listened, and then said, Less sad of speech than mild, "All this is when he comes." She ceased. The light thrilled past her, Filled with angels in strong level lapse. (I saw her smile.) But soon their flight Was vague in distant spheres ; And then she laid her arms along The golden barriers, And laid her face between her hands, And wept. (I heard her tears.) |