V

Was it her soul? or the sapphire fire That sang like the note of a seraph's lyre? Out of her mouth there fell no word-- She spake with her soul, as a flower speaketh.

Fragrant messages none hath heard, Which the sense divines when the spirit seeketh.... And he seemed alone in a place so dim That the spirit's face, who was gazing at him, For its burning eyes he could not see: Then he knew he had died; that she and he Were one; and he saw that this was she.