Stones from The Quarry or, Moods of Mind. By Henry Browne [i.e. Henry Ellison] |
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RAPHAEL'S MADONNA DELLA SEGGIOLA. |
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 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
RAPHAEL'S MADONNA DELLA SEGGIOLA.
The very pressure of those arms we feelRound her dear babe, who, nestling like a dove
On her soft bosom, throbs back love for love;
The vague unconscious-consciousness of weal
Seems from itself almost itself to steal
The sense of bliss, so perfect that above
Its cause and instruments it seems to move
And have its being, and itself reveal
In very essence. Yes! the Present is;
Past, Future are not; instant happiness
Is all in all. Hope, merged in perfect bliss,
Sleeps (fluttering dove), in self-forgetfulness.
Love's circles here, concentric run with His
Above—the great, the lesser, and still less!
| Stones from The Quarry | |