 | Later Poems |  |
I. Elsa
My one beloved is mine, and I am his!
My poet beautiful and great of soul!
The coming days may bring me joy or dole,
But naught remains for me to gain or miss.
My soul hath met his soul in that still kiss,
My life stands fearless out, a perfect whole,
My brow is lucent with the aureole
Set round it by his great love's emphasis.
My poet beautiful and great of soul!
The coming days may bring me joy or dole,
But naught remains for me to gain or miss.
My soul hath met his soul in that still kiss,
My life stands fearless out, a perfect whole,
My brow is lucent with the aureole
Set round it by his great love's emphasis.
I know not how such glory as this can be;
I am as one who, after heavy noise
Of tempest and the shouting of the sea,
Comes to a Paradise of perfect joys,
Where every gift and grace, in equipoise,
Goes round a sun of light, eternally.
I am as one who, after heavy noise
Of tempest and the shouting of the sea,
Comes to a Paradise of perfect joys,
Where every gift and grace, in equipoise,
Goes round a sun of light, eternally.
| Later Poems | |