Buried for ever in my heart shall be
The image of that form I once adored,
Clasping it as a shrine on bended knee,
To gain one smile or sweet auspicious word:
In sooth it was more fond idolatry
Than woman should accept or man accord
To aught but One — and death avenged the Lord!

Yes; thou wert my Supreme Good — my All-wise,
Whose lightest syllable to me was law,
My acts out-went the wishes of thine eyes,
And inspiration from their glance did draw:
With a strange kind of satisfied surprise
At the swift potency of zeal, they saw
More done from love than millions do from awe.

The speech-beginning smile thy lips put on
Which ever made entreaty of command,
Ere into sweet slow words thy breath had gone —
Behold! thy dear desire was in thy hand!
A light intelligential round me shone,
Those eyes' blue effluence, whose flash, tho' bland,
Broke on my forehead like a lightning brand!

That moment I became all mind, heart, soul,
Danger and difficulty rose in vain;
Ev'n Destiny could scarce my deeds control,
Nor Prudence bind me in her brittle chain:
Methought I could have grasped each whirling pole,
And Earth's great axle bent or broke in twain!
For all, to Love, seem'd possible and plain.

Well that thy lowly, weak, and passionless breast,
Swelled with its own sweet feelings! and in those
Found all its joy; nor heaved with more unrest
Than the soft bosom of a maiden rose,
When Zephyr stoops to kiss the fringed vest;
So pure was thy chaste bosom, that the snows
Fall darker when the wintry ice-wind blows!

Full many a time didst thou thy votary pray,
Not — not to love so well! and many a time
Said'st thou wert but a slight, frail thing of clay,
And Heav'n would punish both for my one crime.
Ah! me it punished, hurrying thee away,
In thy sweet blooming-hood and beauteous prime,
Translated thro' the tomb to life's last clime.

I knew — I knew it would be so! for thou
Wert far too much of saint for this sad sphere;
How often did I search, with pain enow,
For some small touch of earth to keep thee here!
But no! — the fatal brightness of thy brow,
The lambent glory round thy temples dear,
Told thy election to the skies was near!

That halo, glimmering from each golden braid,
The vision of thy bright immortal crown,
Too plainly to my woe-struck heart betrayed
Heaven had already writ thee Angel down!
I saw thee early for the skies arrayed
In Purity's white veil and spotless gown,
Nor Hope would help me that sad image drown.

But for this creed, — I had not at thy shrine
Bowed my idolatrous heart and stubborn knee;
I thought thou wert so kindred to divine
'Twere no wrong piety to worship thee!
Beatitude and sanctity both thine,
What could'st thou less than a blest spirit be? —
So love of goodness bred great ill in me.

The blow that laid thee in the arms of Death,
That very night thou should'st have laid in these;
Time's thrilling watchword that chained up thy breath,
And with mere horror thy warm cheek did freeze
To bloodless alabaster; Conscience saith,
These are the visitations Heaven decrees
When man on earth his sole Elysium sees!

Ay me! 'tis true! — I did indeed forget
Flowers of true bliss on earth could never bloom:
But since my worshipt star of beauty set,
My joy is woe, my glory is in gloom.
Dark, noisome, dismal, with rank vapors wet,
This globe is like an universal tomb,
With doors down-leading to the caves of doom.

Fain would I choose me my small charnel-space,
Fain would I lie down blindly with the blind
Whose eyes are dust; fain would I take my place
In the vast catacomb of all mankind.
O that in Ruin's eyes I had found grace!
That my death-warrant tedious Fate had signed,
The charter of immortal life to mind!

Then would my spirit, on empyreal wings,
Soar up to Heaven, if sin would let it soar,
And bird-like, fluttering where its sweet mate sings,
Beat for admittance at the mercy door!
If great compassion touched the King of kings,
My mate and I His goodness might adore —
One voice, one soul, one essence, evermore!