Early poems | ||
100
SONG.
I.
Lift up the curtains of thine eyesAnd let their light out-shine!
Let me adore the mysteries
Of those mild orbs of thine,
Which ever queenly calm do roll,
Attunèd to an ordered soul!
101
II.
Open thy lips yet once againAnd, while my soul doth hush
With awe, pour forth that holy strain
Which seemeth me to gush,
A fount of music, running o'er
From thy deep spirit's inmost core!
III.
The melody that dwells in theeBegets in me as well
A spiritual harmony,
A mild and blessed spell;
Far, far above earth's atmosphere
I rise, whene'er thy voice I hear.
Early poems | ||