As I went wandering, wandering, wandering
Over hill and valley, over moor and windy heath,
Sad was my heart, for I was always pondering
Beauty clad in ashes, life betrayed to death.

Gold was the gorse, and the thorn a snow-white splendour,
Soft little paws from the pollard willows crept,
The half-wakened birch tree was a spirit frail and tender:
I had little sight for them; something in me wept.

As I went onward the sky grew lowering,
Heavy-bodied clouds came looming from the west;
Half heaven blackened 'neath the tall armies towering,
Half was a blue sea with here and there a crest.

Then came the storm with its bitter hailstones pelting,
Ravaging the blackthorn, blotting out the gorse;
Ice on the green tips, icily melting:
“Bright at break of day,” I thought, “this comes of course.”

But, all the while, the sun was shining bravely,
Making every hailstone a diamond as it fell;
As I watched them melting, a voice within said gravely,
“So is the love of God to cold souls in hell.”

And lifting up my head, I saw with shining clearness
One whom I love looking down upon the earth,
Smiling at me with a look of heavenly dearness:
Dearness that ever made a halo round her mirth.

Splendid as a goddess she sat upon a white cloud,
Clad in a robe of surpassing heavenly blue,
Dimly surrounded with a floating little bright crowd
Of white winged cherubs asking her for things to do.

Then with a laugh (I heard her lovely laughter)
Lifting her arms, she loosed her golden hair;
Cataracts of gold came rolling, tumbling after,
Gold was the whole sky, and sweet as myrrh the air.

Full in the eye of the sun she was gazing,
Using as a mirror his shining face of gold,
Combing her hair, while the beams went blazing
Through the liquid splendour I myself had combed of old.

Rich, happy beams to be tangled in her tresses!
See, they are glowing on the darkness in the west!
Each burning ray there its happy heart confesses:
One arch of colour shows a million sunbeams blest.

Passing through her hair they had such perfect rapture
All were transfigured and knew themselves aright,
Like the bright glowing souls ardent love delights to capture
And free, to reveal themselves the very soul of light.

Far in the east the heavy clouds were marching,
Gone was my lady from her white-crested throne;
But high in the vault of heaven was an arching
Rainbow of joy, and I knew it was her own.