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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
1.
At times I lift mine eyes unto ‘the HillsWhence my salvation cometh’—ay, and higher—
And, the mind kindling with the heart's desire,
Mount to that realm nor blight nor shadow chills:
With concourse of bright forms that region thrills:
I see the Lost One midmost in the choir:
From heaven to heaven, on wings that ne'er can tire,
I soar; and God Himself my spirit fills.
If that high rapture lasted need were none
For aid beside, nor any meaner light,
Nothing henceforth to seek, and nought to shun:—
But my soul staggers at its noonday height
And, stretching forth blind hands, a shape undone,
Drops back into the gulfs of mortal night.
August 6, 1846.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |