20

(To one, it is ten years of years.
.. Yet now, and in this place,
Surely she leaned o'er me-her hair
Fell all about my face. . .
Nothing: the autumn fall of leaves.
The whole year sets apace.)

25 It was the rampart of God's house That she was standing on;

30

By God built over the sheer depth
The which is Space begun;

So high, that looking downward thence
She scarce could see the sun.

It lies in Heaven, across the flood
Of ether, as a bridge.

Beneath, the tides of day and night
With flame and darkness ridge

35 The void, as low as where this earth
Spins like a fretful midge.

40

Around her, lovers, newly met
'Mid deathless love's acclaims,
Spoke evermore among themselves
Their heart-remembered names;
And the souls mounting up to God
Went by her like thin flames.

And still she bowed herself and stooped
Out of the circling charm;

45 Until her bosom must have made
The bar she leaned on warm,
And the lilies lay as if asleep
Along her bended arm.

50

From the fixed place of Heaven she saw
Time like a pulse shake fierce

Through all the world. Her gaze still strove

Within the gulf to pierce

Its path; and now she spoke as when
The stars sang in their spheres.

55 The sun was gone now; the curled moon Was like a little feather

60

Fluttering far down the gulf; and now
She spoke through the still weather.
Her voice was like the voice the stars
Had when they sang together.

(Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird's song,

Strove not her accents there,

Fain to be harkened? When those bells
Possessed the mid-day air,

65 Strove not her steps to reach my side
Down all the echoing stair?)

70

'I wish that he were come to me,
For he will come,' she said.

'Have I not prayed in Heaven?-on earth,
Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd?

Are not two prayers a perfect strength?
And shall I feel afraid?

'When round his head the aureole clings, And he is clothed in white,

75 I'll take his hand and go with him To the deep wells of light;

80

As unto a stream we will step down,
And bathe there in God's sight.

'We two will stand beside that shrine,
Occult, withheld, untrod,

Whose lamps are stirred continually
With prayer sent up to God;

And see our old prayers, granted, melt
Each like a little cloud.

85 We two will lie i' the shadow of That living mystic tree

90

Within whose secret growth the Dove
Is sometimes felt to be,

While every leaf that His plumes touch
Saith His name audibly.

'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,

95 And find some knowledge at each pause, Or some new thing to know.'

100

(Alas! We two, we two, thou say'st!
Yea, one wast thou with me

That once of old. But shall God lift
To endless unity

The soul whose likeness with thy soul

Was but its love for thee?)

'We two,' she said, 'will seek the groves Where the lady Mary is,

105 With her five handmaidens, whose names

110

Are five sweet symphonies,

Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
Margaret and Rosalys.

'Circlewise sit they, with bound locks
And foreheads garlanded;

Into the fine cloth white like flame

Weaving the golden thread,

To fashion the birth-robes for them
Who are just born, being dead.

115 He shall fear, haply, and be dumb:
Then will I lay my cheek
To his, and tell about our love,
Not once abashed or weak:
And the dear Mother will approve

'Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,
To Him round whom all souls
Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads
Bowed with their aureoles:

125 And angels meeting us shall sing
To their citherns and citoles.

130

'There will I ask of Christ the Lord
Thus much for him and me:-

Only to live as once on earth
With Love,-only to be,
As then awhile, forever now
Together, I and he.'

She gazed and listened and then said,

Less sad of speech than mild,—

135 All this is when he comes.' She ceased.

140

The light thrilled towards her, fill'd

With angels in strong level flight.
Her eyes prayed, and she smil'd.

(I saw her smile.) But soon their path Was vague in distant spheres:

And then she cast her arms along

The golden barriers,

And laid her face between her hands,
(I heard her tears.)

And wept.

5

10

THE SEA-LIMITS

(From the same)

Consider the sea's listless chime:
Time's self it is, made audible,-
The murmur of the earth's own shell.
Secret continuance sublime

Is the sea's end: our sight may pass
No furlong further. Since time was,
This sound hath told the lapse of time.

No quiet, which is death's,—it hath
The mournfulness of ancient life,
Enduring always at dull strife.
As the world's heart of rest and wrath,
Its painful pulse is in the sands.
Last utterly, the whole sky stands,
Gray and not known, along its path.

15 Listen alone beside the sea,

20

Listen alone among the woods;
Those voices of twin solitudes

Shall have one sound alike to thee:

Hark where the murmurs of thronged men
Surge and sink back and surge again,—

Still the one voice of wave and tree.

Gather a shell from the strown beach

And listen at its lips: they sigh
The same desire and mystery,