Now was it tall as I, among the rays
Standing; I touched not.  Through the window drawn,
This barred and narrow window,—­but I know
Nothing of how, we passed, and seemed to walk
Upon the air, till on the roof we sat.

It spoke.  The sweet mouth did not move, but all
The Angel spoke in strange words full and old,
It was my Angel sent to comfort me
With a message, and the message, “I might come,
And myself see if He forgave me.”  Then
Deliver’d he admonition, “Afterwards
I must return and die.”  But I being dazed,
Confused with love and joy that He so far
Did condescend, “Ay, Eminence,” replied,
“Is the way great?” I knew not what I said. 
The Angel then, “I know not far nor near,
But all the stars of God this side it shine.” 
And I forgetful wholly for this thing
My soul did pant in—­a rapture and a pain,
So great as they would melt it quite away
To a vanishing like mist when sultry rays
Shot from the daystar reckon with it—­I
Said in my simpleness, “But is there time? 
For in three days I am to burn, and O
I would fain see that he forgiveth first. 
Pray you make haste.”  “I know not haste,” he said;
“I was not fashioned to be thrall of time. 
What is it?” And I marvelled, saw outlying,
Shaped like a shield and of dimensions like
An oval in the sky beyond all stars,
And trembled with foreknowledge.  We were bound
To that same golden holy hollow.  I
Misdoubted how to go, but we were gone. 
I set off wingless, walking empty air
Beside him.  In a moment we were caught
Among thick swarms of lost ones, evil, fell
Of might, only a little less than gods,
And strong enough to tear the earth to shreds,
Set shoulders to the sun and rend it out
O’ its place.  Their wings did brush across my face,
Yet felt I nought; the place was vaster far
Than all this wholesome pastoral windy world. 
Through it we spinning, pierced to its far brink,
Saw menacing frowns and we were forth again. 
Time has no instant for the reckoning ought
So sudden; ’t was as if a lightning flash
Threw us within it, and a swifter flash,
We riding harmless down its swordlike edge,
Shot us fast forth to empty nothingness.

All my soul trembled, and my body it seemed
Pleaded than such a sight rather to faint
To the last silence, and the eery grave
Inhabit, and the slow solemnities
Of dying faced, content me with my shroud.

And yet was lying athwart the morning star
That shone in front, that holy hollow; yet
It loomed, as hung atilt towards the world,
That in her time of sleep appeared to look
Up to it, into it. 
                     We, though I wept,
Fearing and longing, knowing not how to go,
My heart gone first, both mine eyes dedicate
To its all-hallowed sweet desired gold,
We on the empty limitless abyss
Walked slowly.  It was far;