University of Virginia Library

TO THE MAID OF MANY SONGS.

Out of the ashes of the joyful fire
That has consumed me—(my funeral pyre—)
Out of the living death that I now die,
Listening to hear thy Heaven-revealing melody—
As one just risen from the midnight tomb
To flourish, after, in immortal bloom—
A new-born Phœnix—I arise! arise!
And soar up, shouting, through the echoing skies!
Instinct with all the joys to Angels known,
I rise rejoicing round the heavenly throne!
But now I die! I die again with bliss!
Swooning away with too much happiness—
That pierces through my heart into my brain—
Listening, entranced, to thine exalted strain!
I die! I die! but not for want of bliss—
But with the riches of my happiness!
I stagger underneath the heavy load
Of too much joy along this thorny road!
I sink down, weary, underneath the Cross
That leads to Heaven from earth where all is dross!
Oh! lift me out of this divine distress
Of happiness—this plenitude of bliss—
This Eden of Delights—this overflow
Of Heaven into my soul now laid so low
With its excessive splendors of delight—
This blinding of my soul with too much light!
This emptying of the sun upon my soul,
While over me his wheels of glory roll,
Pressing from out my heart Promethean tears—
Poured from the Cycles of his rhythmic years—
As if Eternity were into Time
Emptied—mountains on mountains heaped sublime—
Far out of sight, into the Empyreal heights
Of Heaven, where dwell the infinite delights
Of God—that Crown of crowns—around whose top
Gather the Angels—shining climax of all hope!—
Now, as the star-crowned Angel of the Night
Gives to the dying Day divine delight—
Folding him gently in her arms to rest,
In the soft Chambers of the dewy West;
So fold my soul in the odorous bud
Of thy sweet opening Rose of Womanhood,
That I may there, embowered in perfume, lie,
And feed forever on thy heavenly purity!