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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XXXVI. ‘WHEN THOU HAST SET MY HEART AT LIBERTY.’
How narrow earthly loves, even those
Clouded the least by earthly stain!
What bars of Self around them close!
Not Death itself can burst that chain.
Clouded the least by earthly stain!
What bars of Self around them close!
Not Death itself can burst that chain.
We love amiss; we sorrow worse;
Wan vintage of a barren sun
We drain around an ill-waked corse
In death-vaults of delight foregone.
Wan vintage of a barren sun
We drain around an ill-waked corse
In death-vaults of delight foregone.
83
O thou whose love to Him was knit
So near thee, yet so high above;
In whom to love was to submit,
In whom Submission meant but Love;
So near thee, yet so high above;
In whom to love was to submit,
In whom Submission meant but Love;
Whose heart great Love dilated so
That by His Cross, a Mother twice,
All men thy sons became; whose Woe
But crowned true Love's Self-Sacrifice;
That by His Cross, a Mother twice,
All men thy sons became; whose Woe
But crowned true Love's Self-Sacrifice;
Make thou the bosom, pure before,
Through grief more solid-pure to grow;
The lily vase that shook of yore
Make thou the lily filled with snow!
Through grief more solid-pure to grow;
The lily vase that shook of yore
Make thou the lily filled with snow!
The thought of thee among the Blest
O'er earth a bliss snow-pure doth breathe:
Thy rest in heaven diffuses rest
O'er those who love and mourn beneath.
O'er earth a bliss snow-pure doth breathe:
Thy rest in heaven diffuses rest
O'er those who love and mourn beneath.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |