University of Virginia Library

I had a vision when the night was late.
Methought I stood within a garden set
With stateliest plants, with fairest flowers, with shrubs
That breathed a smell of spices on the air.
To left and right, and all the place around,
Grew amaranth and acanthus, tulip tall,
Primrose and pallid lily, and the flush
Of fresh-blown rose, carnation crimson-dyed,
And pinks and pansies and pale jessamine;
And over head the long laburnum showered
Clusters of golden rain, and the gadding vine
Leant from the boughs, and through the laughing leaves
Her fruit fantastic showed; but elm trees dark,
Cypress and cedar, and the solemn yew,
Hedged-in the garden. And as one who looks
Upon a countenance that should be fair,
Yet to his eye ungracious shows and blank,
So I upon this garden fed my gaze
Unsatisfied, with sense of secret loss
And longings unfulfilled. Gay seemed the flowers,
But light was not upon them, neither shone
The smile of Heaven in their unlaughing eyes:
Dark cloud, or shadows of dark cloud, appeared
Dreary to haunt the unhallowed ground; the sky
Frowned black upon it, and the surcharged air
Breathed close and clammy, as with noxious mists
Discomforted, with damps and dreadful gloom.
Then, through the garden, heavy as one who bears
A weight of unwept sorrow in his breast,
Disconsolate and desolate I walked;
And suddenly I saw that all the place
Was filled with crowds of human faces fair,
Great multitudes who flocked through all the paths
In bold and boisterous glee; but ghastly looked
The countenance of those that nearest stood,
And their great peals of hollow laughter shrieked
Discordant to my ear, so that with haste
I turned, and to a sheltered ground afar,
Where double row of branching cedars built
A natural aisle, with all my woe removed.
A whispering sound of welcome through the trees,
A strain of spheral music, and the sweep
Of rustling wings that fanned the winnowed air:
And, lo! a seraph stationed at my side,
With his unutterable glowing orbs
That looked with pitying glance through my sad soul.
A little space, and “Child of earth,” he said,
“Thou knowest not thy sorrow. All things here
“In this fair world which whilome beauteous showed
“To thy rapt gaze, which touched thy heart with joy
“And moved thy soul to song—all these appear
“Lifeless, bereft of beauty, drear and dark,
“Unlovely to behold. Lo! I am He
“In Heaven who move the blessed saints to tears
“Of beautiful compassion, seeking those
“On Earth who best their pitying tears deserve;
“And I have found thee, and behold I come
“To teach thy heart its sorrow. Thou hast lost
“Her to whose clear unspotted soul thou owedst
“What joy on earth was found. So long her eyes
“Looked on this world, so long to thee it seemed
“As 'twere a fruitful and a fragrant field
“Whereon the blessed sunshine rests, and flowers
“Laugh through its grasses, and the merry birds
“People its air with song. But, because grief
“Hath jarred thy reason, all too rudely shocked,
“And marred the mind's clear glass—therefore thy soul
“Knows not the things whereof I speak. Look up,
“Lift high thy sorrowing eyes and learn thy doom.”
I looked, and, lo! athwart the midmost sky
Hung a great cloud, and on its front it bore
A triple arch of ever-changing hues
(Ensign of wrath appeased and present love)
Which, slowly waning, paled and passed away.
Then from the middle of the mighty cloud
Black billowy mists, with dire commotion moved,
Heaved like a tumbled ocean, and anon
Rolled back, as ebbing from a central shore,
And wondrous sight disclosed. For when these eyes,
First dazed and blinded by excess of light,
A little their power resumed—there, in the midst
Of that bright chasm, I saw the mortal form
Of her who gave me being. Mortal no more!
For round about her high and holy brow
Flamed the bright glory of a Saint, which lit
Her face with light immortal and suffused
With liquid gold her silvery tresses fair.
Erect she stood, and in her pure right hand
A branching palm, the meed of Saints, she bore,
But th' other lay caressent on the head
Of a bright angel couched beside her knee
Singing the praise of God and God's elect;
And, hovering round, were clustering faces bright
Of Seraph and of Cherubim, who poised
On pure white wings contingent, echoing loud
The strain of her below. Intent I gazed!
And suddenly I felt about my soul
The yearning to approach that vision bright
Expand and grow, and at the last become
A power. Buoyant I rose, and through the air
Swifter than bolt from arbalist I flew,
And on the folded skirting of the cloud
Lodged, and fell prone. Senseless long time I lay,
Then raised with pain my drooping head, and cried,
“Art thou, indeed, the Soul, nor only form,
“Of Her who gave me Being, and blest it given?
“More lovely than all else but her, art Thou
“Indeed her Spirit! Oh! might the jealous Gods
“Not grant thee still to sojourn, brief delay,
“In yon bleak world? could not the bonds of Love
“Hold thee, Ingrateful, yet a little while
“Linked to this heart? Oh! Lips maternal, say,
“What life (thy life being lost) remains for me,
“Wand'ring for ever desolate and dark,
“As in yon garden? If indeed Thou art
“No Phantom, come to cheat me into grief,
“Let thy bland lips, as thy bland lips were wont,
“Teach me such wisdom as may comfort lend,
“And light whereby to live!” So saying I looked,
Through passionate tears that dimmed my mortal sight,
Upon her luminous face. No word she spake;
Raising a solemn finger she made sign
Of silence, on her lips by some great Law
Of Heaven imposed—but her immortal eyes
That act accompanied with such sweet look
Of piteous love compassionately kind,
That I leapt forth to embrace her—and, behold!
Sudden the cloud rolled shrivelled up and fled,
And I, hurled back, through twice ten thousand leagues
Of whistling air, fell headlong to the ground.

I woke: the lark was singing in the sky,
The field was fresh with flowers. The fragrant dews
Glistened upon the face of happy Earth
Who (as a Bride new-made puts off her veil
And smiles upon her Bridegroom through sweet tears)
Put off the morning mist, and, bashful fair,
Looked dewy on the Sun. Then I perceived
How all things, robed in gladness, laughed to scorn
My evil dream, and that thy natal day
Once more was come, and thou wert with me still.
Live Thou, oh, live! and let my darksome Dream
Be mocked by thy bright life. Die not, dear Saint,
A little while refrain thee from thy home!
And though the clouds of tempest seem to lour
About the wrinkled and the wrathful Earth—
Though War's hoarse thunder bellow, and the flash
Of kindled Passions fire the world, and bring
(Inevitable sequel) drenching floods
Of human misery, salt and streaming tears—
Endure the storm (so hard to be endured
If thou wert not!) with those who love and need
Thy presence, needed most where least Love is.
So shall thy bland and gracious Spirit wise,
Though desolation and distress be near,
Give counsel, comfort, and to those who watch
Shine like a Beacon-light athwart the Storm!

L'Envoy.

Take, Sweet! my annual blessing due this day,
And on my head thy benediction lay.
Though War's red fury round the world increase,
Thy life preserved preserves my heart its Peace.