University of Virginia Library


219

XXIII.
FINALLY ALONE

Yet must there come a final triumph-time
When all the lower service is achieved;
When all love passes into joy sublime,—
Joy higher than our highest hopes conceived.
Then shall we be alone. The utmost air
Of heaven shall crown us, and our hearts shall sing
With strange joy,—subtle, spirit-thrilling, fair:
Above us both shall brood God's lonely wing.
Then shall I, seeking blossoms, find but thee;
Hear in thy voice the murmur of the sea:
Find all sweet gifts and tender of the air
Within thine heart,—for purest heaven is there:—
And, yearning towards God's summer in deep skies,
Verily find it!—deeper in thine eyes.