 | Imaginary Sonnets |  |
53
SAINT THERESA TO THE HEAVENLY GATES.
(1555.)
The glories of the Sunset are as nought
To those of my bare cell, whose walls divide
Like parting clouds, and let my spirit ride
To Heaven's gates of flaming topaz wrought.
To those of my bare cell, whose walls divide
Like parting clouds, and let my spirit ride
To Heaven's gates of flaming topaz wrought.
In that abyss of glory beyond thought,
Like bubbles winking in a golden tide,
Gleam angel-faces, whirled and multiplied,
That disappear so soon the eye has caught.
Like bubbles winking in a golden tide,
Gleam angel-faces, whirled and multiplied,
That disappear so soon the eye has caught.
Then through the cleft as through the open door
Of some great minster, anthems that are past
All earthly words, in gusts of glory pour
Of some great minster, anthems that are past
All earthly words, in gusts of glory pour
Till, drunk with light and sound, and faint with fast,
The body yields, the spirit soars no more,
And my cell's walls close round again at last.
The body yields, the spirit soars no more,
And my cell's walls close round again at last.
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