 | Western windows and other poems |  |
75
THE MASTER-KEY.
Lo! in my lifted hand a little Key:
What matter if of iron or of gold,
My simplest gift, my greatest gift, you see;
My life, Beloved, when it is given you hold.
What matter if of iron or of gold,
My simplest gift, my greatest gift, you see;
My life, Beloved, when it is given you hold.
Enter whene'er you choose: at vesper chime,
Or when the dewy lips of midnight, dumb,
Kiss the dumb world. Behold, at morning's prime
My doors are open, and the many come.
Or when the dewy lips of midnight, dumb,
Kiss the dumb world. Behold, at morning's prime
My doors are open, and the many come.
The many come—it matters little who:
I guard the place and welcome, evermore.
My sacred chambers, never closed to you,
Are closed for them: I keep the outer door.
I guard the place and welcome, evermore.
My sacred chambers, never closed to you,
Are closed for them: I keep the outer door.
Enter whene'er you will, for every room
Is yours in being mine. To you unknown,
This Key knows outward porch and inner gloom,
Each sky-ward stair, each closet dim and lone.
Is yours in being mine. To you unknown,
This Key knows outward porch and inner gloom,
Each sky-ward stair, each closet dim and lone.
76
Dance in the echoing halls, Beloved, and sing
Away your heart to every echo sweet
(The echoes, too, are mine), with flitting wing
Of buoyant joy and scarce-alighting feet.
Away your heart to every echo sweet
(The echoes, too, are mine), with flitting wing
Of buoyant joy and scarce-alighting feet.
The lighted walls shall answer your delight,
With floating shapes and summer dreams of Art:
The Undine springing from her fountain bright,
The lithe Bacchanté with her panting heart.
With floating shapes and summer dreams of Art:
The Undine springing from her fountain bright,
The lithe Bacchanté with her panting heart.
Dream in the purple glooms, for dreaming made,
Where the white angel holds the lily white
Against her marble bosom (in the shade
Her wings forgotten), watching day and night.
Where the white angel holds the lily white
Against her marble bosom (in the shade
Her wings forgotten), watching day and night.
What though at times along the floors—unknown,
Unheard by others—echo phantom feet,
Weird faces start from veils, faint voices moan?
Know Life and Death in every passage meet.
Unheard by others—echo phantom feet,
Weird faces start from veils, faint voices moan?
Know Life and Death in every passage meet.
Open the chambers where the unburied dead,
While Memory there forever wakeful stands,
Show their thin ghostly radiance not yet fled—
Pure breathless faces, tender folded hands.
While Memory there forever wakeful stands,
Show their thin ghostly radiance not yet fled—
Pure breathless faces, tender folded hands.
77
Around the death-beds, hush'd, familiar go,
And kiss for me the dear familiar clay,
While the dark funeral tapers waver slow
And the old death-watch is renew'd for aye.
And kiss for me the dear familiar clay,
While the dark funeral tapers waver slow
And the old death-watch is renew'd for aye.
Walk in my secret chapel when you will:
Lo! Visions come adown some unseen stair;
Sometimes high voices all the silence fill,
And St. Cecilia's soul is in the air.
Lo! Visions come adown some unseen stair;
Sometimes high voices all the silence fill,
And St. Cecilia's soul is in the air.
Fear not: the angel with the lily white
There watches, too, as in the dreaming place,
With wings uplifted in mysterious light
And some white morning on her lifted face.
There watches, too, as in the dreaming place,
With wings uplifted in mysterious light
And some white morning on her lifted face.
Enter, whene'er you choose, whatever door:
This Key will open, night and day, the whole.
Be Love with you, your guardian evermore;
Fear nothing. Take the Master of my Soul.
This Key will open, night and day, the whole.
Be Love with you, your guardian evermore;
Fear nothing. Take the Master of my Soul.
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