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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
L.
Is this, indeed, our ancient earth?
Or have we died in sleep and risen?
Has earth, like man, her second birth?
Rises the palace from the prison?
Or have we died in sleep and risen?
Has earth, like man, her second birth?
Rises the palace from the prison?
Hills beyond hills ascend the skies;
O'er winding valleys heaven-suspended,
Huge forests rich as sunset's dyes
With rainbow-braided clouds are blended.
O'er winding valleys heaven-suspended,
Huge forests rich as sunset's dyes
With rainbow-braided clouds are blended.
165
What means it? Glory, sweetness, might?
Not these but something holier far;
Shadows of Him, that Light of Light
Whose priestly vestment all things are.
Not these but something holier far;
Shadows of Him, that Light of Light
Whose priestly vestment all things are.
The veil of sense transparent grows:
God's Face shines out that veil behind
Like yonder sea-reflected snows—
Here man must worship, or be blind.
God's Face shines out that veil behind
Like yonder sea-reflected snows—
Here man must worship, or be blind.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |