 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
285
XXXVI.
How bright, how calm, how gentle, and how greatThe soul should grow, ere yet for such a scene,
So sweet, so pure, so lofty, so serene,
It were an equal or an answering mate!
All day upon my heart there hung a weight;
And whence I knew not. Beauty seemed to lean,
Heavy for once, upon a breast, I ween,
Till now to catch her faintest smile elate.
But now the cause of that depression known,
The pain itself has left me; rather say,
In aspiration upward it has flown
From the dark altar of this heart of clay:
And I tread firmly, though by conscience chidden,
A guest permitted—yet a guest unbidden.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |