Iv

Of what in other worlds shall be—and given In beauty by our God, to those alone Who otherwise would fall from life and Heaven, Drawn by their heart’s passion, and that tone, That high tone of the spirit, which hath striven Though not with Faith—with godliness—whose throne With desperate energy ’t hath beaten down; Wearing its own deep feeling as a crown.

TO ——.

The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see The wantonest singing birds, Are lips—and all thy melody Of lip-begotten words—

Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined Then desolately fall, O God! on my funereal mind Like starlight on a pall—

Thy heart—thy heart!—I wake and sigh, And sleep to dream till day Of the truth that gold can never buy— Of the baubles that it may.