Now I can see thee clearly;
  The dusky cloud of clay,
That hid thy starry spirit,
  Is rent and blown away: 
To earth I give thy body,
  Thy spirit to the sky,
I saw its bright wings growing,
  And knew that thou must fly.

Now I can love thee truly,
  For nothing comes between
The senses and the spirit,
  The seen and the unseen;
Lifts the eternal shadow,
  The silence bursts apart,
And the soul’s boundless future
  Is present in my heart.

A PARABLE

Worn and footsore was the Prophet,
  When he gained the holy hill;
‘God has left the earth,’ he murmured,
’Here his presence lingers still.

’God of all the olden prophets,
  Wilt thou speak with men no more? 
Have I not as truly served thee
  As thy chosen ones of yore?

’Hear me, guider of my fathers,
  Lo! a humble heart is mine;
By thy mercy I beseech thee
  Grant thy servant but a sign!’

Bowing then his head, he listened
  For an answer to his prayer;
No loud burst of thunder followed,
  Not a murmur stirred the air: 

But the tuft of moss before him
  Opened while he waited yet,
And, from out the rock’s hard bosom,
  Sprang a tender violet.

‘God!  I thank thee,’ said the Prophet;
  ’Hard of heart and blind was I,
Looking to the holy mountain
  For the gift of prophecy.

’Still thou speakest with thy children
  Freely as in eld sublime;
Humbleness, and love, and patience,
  Still give empire over time.

’Had I trusted in my nature,
  And had faith in lowly things,
Thou thyself wouldst then have sought me. 
  And set free my spirit’s wings.

’But I looked for signs and wonders,
  That o’er men should give me sway;
Thirsting to be more than mortal,
  I was even less than clay.

’Ere I entered on my journey,
  As I girt my loins to start,
Ran to me my little daughter,
  The beloved of my heart;

’In her hand she held a flower,
  Like to this as like may be,
Which, beside my very threshold,
  She had plucked and brought to me.’

SONG

O moonlight deep and tender,
  A year and more agone,
Your mist of golden splendor
  Round my betrothal shone!

O elm-leaves dark and dewy,
  The very same ye seem,
The low wind trembles through ye,
  Ye murmur in my dream!

O river, dim with distance,
  Flow thus forever by,
A part of my existence
  Within your heart doth lie!

O stars, ye saw our meeting,
  Two beings and one soul,
Two hearts so madly beating
  To mingle and be whole!

O happy night, deliver
  Her kisses back to me,
Or keep them all, and give her
  A blisslul dream of me!