Chapter 75 Sonnet XXVI-XXX

I lived with visions for my company Instead of men and women, years ago, And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know A sweefer music than they played to me. But soon their trailing purple was not free Of this worlds dust, their lutes did silent grow, And I myself grew faint and blind below Their vanishing eyes. Then THOU didst come--to be, Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts, Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same, As river-water hallowed into fonts), Met in thee, and from out thee overcame My soul with satisfaction of all wants: Because Gods gifts put mans best dreams to shame.

I lived with visions for my company Instead of men and women, years ago, And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know A sweeter music than they played to me. But soon their trailing purple was not free Of this worlds dust, their lutes did silent grow, And I myself grew faint and blind below Their vanishing eyes. Then thou didst come--to be, Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts, Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same, As river water hallowed into fonts), Met in thee, and from out thee overcame My soul with satisfaction of all wants: Because Gods gifts put mans best dreams to shame.

My own Beloved, who has lifted me From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown, And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully Shines out again, as all the angels see, Before thy saving kiss ! My own, my own, Who camet to me when the world was gone, And I who looked for only God, found thee! I find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad. As one who stands in dewless asphodel Looks backward on the tedious time he had In the upper life,--so I, with bosom-swell, Make witness, here, between the good and bad, That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well.

My dear Beloved, who has lifted me From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown, And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully Shines out again, as all the angels see, Before thy saving kiss! My own, my own, Who camet to me when the world was gone, And I who looked for only God, found <i>thee!</i> I find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad. As one who stands in dewless asphodel Looks backward on the tedious time he had In the upper life,--so I, with bosom-swell, Make witness, here, between the good and bad, That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well.

My letters ! all dead paper, mute and white ! And yet they seem alive and quivering Against my tremulous hands which loose the string And let them drop down on my knee to-night. This said,--he wished to have me in his sight Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring To come and touch my hand . . . a simple thing, Yet I wept for it!--this, . . . the papers light . . . Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed As if Gods future thundered on my past. This said, I am thine--and so its ink has paled With Iying at my heart that beat too fast. And this . . . O Love, thy words have ill availed

If, what this said, I dared repeat at last ! My letters-- all dead paper, mute and white! And yet they seem alive and quivering Against my tremulous hands which loose the string And let them drop down on my knee to-night, This said,--he wished to have me in his sight Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring To come and touch my hand...a simple thing, Yet I wept for it!--this...the papers light... Said, <i>Dear, I love thee;</i> and I sank and quailed As if Gods future thundered on my past. This said, <i>I am thine</i>--and so its ink has paled

With lying at my heart that beat too fast. And this...O Love, thy words have ill availed If, what this said, I dared repeat at last! I think of thee!--my thoughts do twine and bud About thee, as wild vines, about a tree, Put out broad leaves, and soon there's nought to see Except the straggling green which hides the wood. Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood I will not have my thoughts instead of thee Who art dearer, better ! Rather, instantly Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should, Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare, And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee

Drop heavily down,--burst, shattered, everywhere! Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee And breathe within thy shadow a new air, I do not think of thee--I am too near thee. I think of thee!--my thoughts do twine and bud About thee, as wild vines, about a tree, Put out broad leaves, and soon theres nought to see Except the straggling green which hides the wood. Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood I will not have my thoughts instead of thee Who art dearer, better! Rather, instantly Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should, Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare,

And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee Drop heavily down,--burst, shattered, everywhere! Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee And breathe within thy shadow a new air, I do not think of thee--I am too near thee. I see thine image through my tears to-night, And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. Refer the cause?--Beloved, is it thou Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow, On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow, Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight, As he, in his swooning ears, the choirs Amen.

Beloved, dost thou love? or did I see all The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when Too vehement light dilated my ideal, For my souls eyes? Will that light come again, As now these tears come--falling hot and real? I see thine image through my tears to-night, And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. Refer the cause?--Beloved, is it thou Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow, On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow, Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight, As he, in his swooning ears, the choirs amen.

Beloved, dost thou love? or did I see all The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when Too vehement light dilated my ideal, For my souls eyes? Will that light come again, As now these tears come--falling hot and real?