University of Virginia Library

AT SET OF SUN.

Within the church, long shadows on the wall
Come, and are gone; the hours have lingering feet;
And the great organ's pulses rise and fall,
Waking to life in rapturous music sweet,
Weaving a poem ever mystical.
Without, in a high westward world of gold,
As, loth to leave, the sun goes tenderly;
The trailing glories of his vesture's fold,
Amber and rose, and all fair hues that be,
Float all transfigured in a sapphire sea.
In the low hedge the brown birds chirp and sing,
And the wan wild rose opes its jewelled cup
Lighting the briar; the elder blooms are white;
Where late the hawthorn stars were blossoming,
Now woodbine doth its sweet breath render up,
And the rich air grow languorous with delight.
I know a lady who at sunset fire—
O white, unsoilèd dove!—comes here to prayer,
So pure she is, the seraphs scarce were higher;
So sweet, the Summer Wind in warm desire
With fair cool fingers ruffles her soft hair.
So tender, flowers are joyful 'neath her tread;
The loving dumb things gather in her way;
The singing birds from her white hands are fed.
Drop down, O Music, into silence grey!
She comes, my love, my love; O fairer than the day!
She kneels; the light from the rose-window rolled
Streams o'er her burnished hair and fair grand brows,
Staining her white robe with auroral dyes.
Now could I fall and kiss her garments' fold,
And tell her all my love and all my vows,—
Ah! the sweet wonder in her lovely eyes.