| |
THE BLESSED damozel leaned out | |
| From the gold bar of Heaven; | |
| Her eyes were deeper than the depth | |
| Of waters stilled at even; | |
| She had three lilies in her hand, | 5 |
| And the stars in her hair were seven. | |
| |
| Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, | |
| No wrought flowers did adorn, | |
| But a white rose of Mary’s gift, | |
| For service meetly worn; | 10 |
| Her hair that lay along her back | |
| Was yellow like ripe corn. | |
| |
| Herseemed she scarce had been a day | |
| One of God’s choristers; | |
| The wonder was not yet quite gone | 15 |
| From that still look of hers; | |
| Albeit, to them she left, her day | |
| Had counted as ten years. | |
| |
| (To one it is ten years of years. | |
| … Yet now, and in this place, | 20 |
| Surely she leaned o’er me—her hair | |
| Fell all about my face…. | |
| Nothing: the autumn fall of leaves. | |
| The whole year sets apace.)… | |
| |
| Heard hardly, some of her new friends | 25 |
| Amid their loving games | |
| Spake evermore among themselves | |
| Their virginal chaste names; | |
| And the souls mounting up to God | |
| Went by her like thin flames. | 30 |
| |
| And still she bowed herself and stooped | |
| Out of the circling charm; | |
| Until her bosom must have made | |
| The bar she leaned on warm, | |
| And the lilies lay as if asleep | 35 |
| Along her bended arm…. | |
| |
| The sun was gone now; the curled moon | |
| Was like a little feather | |
| Fluttering far down the gulf; and now | |
| She spoke through the still weather. | 40 |
| Her voice was like the voice the stars | |
| Had when they sang together. | |
| |
| (Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird’s song, | |
| Strove not her accents there, | |
| Fain to be hearkened? When those bells | 45 |
| Possessed the mid-day air, | |
| Strove not her steps to reach my side | |
| Down all the echoing stair?) | |
| |
| ‘I wish that he were come to me, | |
| For he will come’, she said. | 50 |
| ‘Have I not prayed in Heaven?—on earth, | |
| Lord, Lord, has he not pray’d? | |
| Are not two prayers a perfect strength? | |
| And shall I feel afraid? | |
| |
| ‘When round his head the aureole clings, | 55 |
| And he is clothed in white, | |
| I’ll take his hand and go with him | |
| To the deep wells of light; | |
| We will step down as to a stream, | |
| And bathe there in God’s sight. | 60 |
| |
| ‘We two will stand beside that shrine, | |
| Occult, withheld, untrod, | |
| Whose lamps are stirred continually | |
| With prayer sent up to God; | |
| And see our old prayers, granted, melt | 65 |
| Each like a little cloud…. | |
| |
| ‘He shall fear, haply, and be dumb: | |
| Then will I lay my cheek | |
| To his, and tell about our love, | |
| Not once abashed or weak: | 70 |
| And the dear Mother will approve | |
| My pride, and let me speak. | |
| |
| ‘Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, | |
| To Him round whom all souls | |
| Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads | 75 |
| Bowed with their aureoles: | |
| And angels meeting us shall sing | |
| To their citherns and citoles. | |
| |
| ‘There will I ask of Christ the Lord | |
| Thus much for him and me:— | 80 |
| Only to live as once on earth | |
| With Love,—only to be, | |
| As then awhile, for ever now | |
| Together, I and he.’ | |
| |
| She gazed and listened and then said, | 85 |
| Less sad of speech than mild,— | |
| ‘All this is when he comes.’ She ceased. | |
| The light thrilled towards her, fill’d | |
| With angels in strong level flight. | |
| Her eyes prayed, and she smil’d. | 90 |
| |
| (I saw her smile.) But soon their path | |
| Was vague in distant spheres: | |
| And then she cast her arms along | |
| The golden barriers, | |
| And laid her face against her hands, | 95 |
| And wept. (I heard her tears.) | |
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