Читать книгу My Commonplace Book онлайн

44 страница из 124

As faery-light as feet of air.

...

She grew, a sweet and sinless Child,

In shine and shower,—calm and strife;

A Rainbow on our dark of Life.

From Love’s own radiant heaven down-smiled!

In lonely loveliness she grew,—

A shape all music, light, and love,

With startling looks, so eloquent of

The spirit burning into view.

Such mystic lore was in her eyes,

And light of other worlds than ours,

She looked as she had fed on flowers,

And drunk the dews of Paradise[11]

...

Ah! she was one of those who come

With pledgèd promise not to stay

Long, ere the Angels let them stray

To nestle down in earthly home:

And, thro’ the windows of her eyes,

We often saw her saintly soul,

Serene, and sad, and beautiful,

Go sorrowing for lost Paradise.

She came—like music in the night

Floating as heaven in the brain,

A moment oped, and shut again,

And all is dark where all was light.

...

In this dim world of clouding cares,

We rarely know, till wildered eyes

See white wings lessening up the skies,

The Angels with us unawares.