 | Poems (1901) |  |
67
ALICE
Without surcease of breath
Her soul hath slipped its sheath,
And walks among us, beautiful, unafraid,
So mortal eyes may see
How immortality
Transcends all beauty that must fail and fade.
Her soul hath slipped its sheath,
And walks among us, beautiful, unafraid,
So mortal eyes may see
How immortality
Transcends all beauty that must fail and fade.
Colours of air and flame,
The glory whence she came,
Yet float about her in our dusty sphere.
Silence and rapture still
Brought from the heavenly hill,
Whence she hath travelled to our exile drear.
The glory whence she came,
Yet float about her in our dusty sphere.
Silence and rapture still
Brought from the heavenly hill,
Whence she hath travelled to our exile drear.
Slight as a lance she is,
And tall as Lent lilies,
Aspiring like a flame in windless air.
Incense and breath of spice,
Kept from her Paradise,
Haunt her from slender feet to ebon hair.
And tall as Lent lilies,
Aspiring like a flame in windless air.
Incense and breath of spice,
Kept from her Paradise,
Haunt her from slender feet to ebon hair.
Lingering and lovely voice—
Lutes, dulcimers, hautboys—
Her voice remembers how the music went,
Still holds the rise and fall,
The sob ecstatical,
Of some most heavenly-sweet wind instrument.
Lutes, dulcimers, hautboys—
Her voice remembers how the music went,
Still holds the rise and fall,
The sob ecstatical,
Of some most heavenly-sweet wind instrument.
| Poems (1901) | |