THE MYSTIC’S VISION

  Ah!  I shall kill myself with dreams! 
    These dreams that softly lap me round
  Through trance-like hours in which meseems
    That I am swallowed up and drowned;
  Drowned in your love, which flows o’er me
    As o’er the seaweed flows the sea.

  In watches of the middle night,
    ’Twixt vesper and ’twist matin bell,
  With rigid arms and straining sight,
    I wait within my narrow cell;
  With muttered prayers, suspended will,
    I wait your advent—­statue-still.

  Across the convent garden walls
    The wind blows from the silver seas;
  Black shadow of the cypress falls
    Between the moon-meshed olive-trees;
  Sleep-walking from their golden bowers,
  Flit disembodied orange flowers.

  And in God’s consecrated house,
    All motionless from head to feet,
  My heart awaits her heavenly Spouse,
    As white I lie on my white sheet;
  With body lulled and soul awake,
  I watch in anguish for your sake.

  And suddenly, across the gloom,
    The naked moonlight sharply swings;
  A Presence stirs within the room,
    A breath of flowers and hovering wings:—­
  Your presence without form and void,
  Beyond all earthly joys enjoyed.

  My heart is hushed, my tongue is mute,
    My life is centred in your will;
  You play upon me like a lute
    Which answers to its master’s skill,
  Till passionately vibrating,
  Each nerve becomes a throbbing string.

  Oh, incommunicably sweet! 
    No longer aching and apart,
  As rain upon the tender wheat,
    You pour upon my thirsty heart;
  As scent is bound up in the rose,
  Your love within my bosom glows.

MATHILDE BLIND.

* * * * *

THE CALL.

  Come, my way, my truth, my life—­
    Such a way as gives us breath;
  Such a truth as ends all strife;
    Such a life as killeth death.

  Come my light, my feast, my strength—­
    Such a light as shows a feast;
  Such a feast as mends in length;
    Such a strength as makes His guest.

  Come my joy, my love, my heart! 
    Such a joy as none can move;
  Such a love as none can part;
    Such a heart as joys in love.

GEORGE HERBERT.

* * * * *

HOPE.

    FROM “THE PLEASURES OF HOPE."[A]

  Unfading Hope! when life’s last embers burn,
  When soul to soul, and dust to dust return! 
  Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour! 
  O, then thy kingdom comes!  Immortal Power! 
  What though each spark of earth-born rapture fly
  The quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing eye! 
  Bright to the soul thy seraph hands convey
  The morning dream of life’s eternal day,—­
  Then, then, the triumph and the trance begin,
  And all the phoenix spirit burns within!