The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite in two volumes ... With a Portrait |
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TO YOU IN ABSENCE |
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 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
194
TO YOU IN ABSENCE
When I have seen thy sunset smoke,
How I have long'd for thee!
When through the fire and light
A deeper heart of light and fire
Has open'd from the infinite,
Deep as that void was my desire—
O heart of light! O heart of fire!—
Thy very self to feel and see
In ecstasy of sense and sight—
In nuptials of the depth and height:
Beyond the outward beauty's show,
The evanescent gleam and glow,
Ah, thee to know, ah, thee to know!
How I have long'd for thee!
When through the fire and light
A deeper heart of light and fire
Has open'd from the infinite,
Deep as that void was my desire—
O heart of light! O heart of fire!—
Thy very self to feel and see
In ecstasy of sense and sight—
In nuptials of the depth and height:
Beyond the outward beauty's show,
The evanescent gleam and glow,
Ah, thee to know, ah, thee to know!
We do but see thy painted face,
Symbol and vesture of thy grace:
The long-drawn forests trail and bend,
The great paths wind and have no end,
The swimming floods their founts pour out,
The tides of the mysterious sea
That writhing vastness turns about,
And all draw out our souls to thee.
Symbol and vesture of thy grace:
The long-drawn forests trail and bend,
The great paths wind and have no end,
The swimming floods their founts pour out,
The tides of the mysterious sea
That writhing vastness turns about,
And all draw out our souls to thee.
When darkness on the earth and ocean
Only unfolds the sense of motion,
Sound, and the echo of all sound,
Surging sharpen'd senses round,
There seems a closer contact made
Than when thy features stand display'd
But oh, not thee, ah no, not thee!
The portrait of a face conceal'd,
An absent person's picture shining;
And we before it stand divining
What thou art like and where art thou.
Does the light fall thus on thy brow?
And do thy sweet eyes glance like this?
Thy lips seem as the lips we kiss,
And has thy voice, to cheer and bless,
Our music's dulcet tenderness?
Only unfolds the sense of motion,
Sound, and the echo of all sound,
Surging sharpen'd senses round,
There seems a closer contact made
Than when thy features stand display'd
But oh, not thee, ah no, not thee!
The portrait of a face conceal'd,
An absent person's picture shining;
And we before it stand divining
What thou art like and where art thou.
Does the light fall thus on thy brow?
195
Thy lips seem as the lips we kiss,
And has thy voice, to cheer and bless,
Our music's dulcet tenderness?
We know thy picture well, ah well!
From out the blazon'd frame of things
It almost steps at times to tell
How close our heart's imaginings,
Beata Pulchra, reach to thee!
About thy country's shrouded sphere
Gather we tidings far and near;
And through the sunset and the star,
Through all the fields of space afar,
Through long-drawn fire of light which fills
The openings beyond the hills,
We pass in flight of thought to see—
O antitype of all things fair,
If thou art there, if thou art there!
From out the blazon'd frame of things
It almost steps at times to tell
How close our heart's imaginings,
Beata Pulchra, reach to thee!
About thy country's shrouded sphere
Gather we tidings far and near;
And through the sunset and the star,
Through all the fields of space afar,
Through long-drawn fire of light which fills
The openings beyond the hills,
We pass in flight of thought to see—
O antitype of all things fair,
If thou art there, if thou art there!
Surely thy country is our home,
And all is exile here;
And surely we shall reach thy place:
We must be meant to see thy face—
Who also from afar have come,
With faces veil'd, as thine is now,
And other than our looks appear—
We know not how, we know not how!
While still we tarry far away,
And still pursue the anxious quest,
In beauty let thy picture stay,
In beauty and in light express'd
Throughout this long dream-haunted day—
On sea and land, on land and sea,
Long haunted with the dreams of thee—
And therefore, till the light shall fail,
O thou in absence, thee we hail!
And all is exile here;
And surely we shall reach thy place:
We must be meant to see thy face—
Who also from afar have come,
With faces veil'd, as thine is now,
And other than our looks appear—
We know not how, we know not how!
While still we tarry far away,
And still pursue the anxious quest,
In beauty let thy picture stay,
In beauty and in light express'd
Throughout this long dream-haunted day—
On sea and land, on land and sea,
Long haunted with the dreams of thee—
And therefore, till the light shall fail,
O thou in absence, thee we hail!
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |