It lies in Heaven, across the flood
Of ether, as a bridge.

Beneath, the tides of day and night
With flame and darkness ridge
The void, as low as where this earth
Spins like a fretful midge.

Heard hardly, some of her new friends
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.

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

Along her bended arm.

From the fixed place of Heaven she saw

Time like a pulse shake fierce

Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove

Within the gulf to pierce

Its path; and now she spoke as when
The stars sang in their spheres.

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. 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
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.

'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, 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.

'We two will stand beside the shrine,
Occult, withheld, untrod,

Whose lamps are stirred continually
With prayer sent up to God;
And see our old prayers, granted, melt
Each like a little cloud.

"We two will lie i' the shadow of

That living mystic tree

Within whose secret growth the Dove

Is sometimes felt to be,

While every leaf that His plumes touch
Saith His Name audibly.

" And I myself will teach to him,
I myself, lying so,

The songs I sing here; which his voice
Shall pause in, hushed and slow,
And find some knowledge at each pause,
Or some new thing to know.'

(Alas! We two, we two, thou say'st!
Yea, one wast thou with me

That once of old. But shall God lift

To endless unity

The soul whose likeness with thy soul

Was but its love for thee?)

'We two,' she said, 'will seek the groves Where the lady Mary is,

With her five handmaidens, whose names
Are five sweet symphonies,
Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
Margaret and Rosalys.

'Circlewise sit they, with bound locks

And foreheads garlanded;

Into the fine cloth white like flame
Weaving the golden thread,

To fashion the birth-robes for them
Who are just born, being dead.

'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:
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
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:

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,

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.

(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 between her hands
And wept. (I heard her tears.)

LOVE ENTHRONED.

I marked all kindred Powers the heart finds fair :-
Truth, with awed lips; and Hope, with eyes upcast;
And Fame, whose loud wings fan the ashen Past
To signal-fires, Oblivion's flight to scare;
And Youth, with still some single golden hair

Unto his shoulder clinging, since the last
Embrace wherein two sweet arms held him fast;
And Life, still wreathing flowers for Death to wear.

Love's throne was not with these; but far above
All passionate wind of welcome and farewell
He sat in breathless bowers they dream not of;
Though Truth foreknow Love's heart, and Hope foretell
And Fame be for Love's sake desirable,
And Youth be dear, and Life be sweet to love.

LOVE'S NOCTURN.

Master of the murmuring courts

Where the shapes of sleep convene!-

Lo! my spirit here exhorts

All the powers of thy demesne

For their aid to woo my queen.
What reports

Yield thy jealous courts unseen?

Vaporous unaccountable,

Dreamland lies forlorn of light,
Hollow like a breathing shell.

Ah! that from all dreams I might
Choose one dream and guide its flight!
I know well

What her sleep should tell to-night.

There the dreams are multitudes:

Some whose buoyance waits not sleep, Deep within the August woods; Some that hum while rest may steep Weary labour laid a-heap; Interludes,

Some, of grievous moods that weep.

Poets' fancies all are there:

There the elf-girls flood with wings

Valleys full of plaintive air;

There breathe perfumes; there in rings Whirl the foam-bewildered springs; Siren there

Winds her dizzy hair and sings.

Thence the one dream mutually

Dreamed in bridal unison,

Less than waking ecstasy;

Half-formed visions that make moan

In the house of birth alone;

And what we

At death's wicket see, unknown.

But for mine own sleep, it lies

In one gracious form's control,

Fair with honourable eyes,
Lamps of an auspicious soul:
O their glance is loftiest dole,
Sweet and wise,

Wherein Love descries his goal.