Soul-Light

What other woman could be loved like you, Or how of you should love possess his fill? After the fulness of all rapture, still,-- As at the end of some deep avenue A tender glamour of day,--there comes to view Far in your eyes a yet more hungering thrill,-- Such fire as Love's soul-winnowing hands distil Even from his inmost arc of light and dew.

And as the traveller triumphs with the sun, Glorying in heat's mid-height, yet startide brings Wonder new-born, and still fresh transport springs From limpid lambent hours of day begun;-- Even so, through eyes and voice, your soul doth move My soul with changeful light of infinite love.