Oh go not yet, my love,
      The night is dark and vast;
  The white moon is hid in her heaven above,
      And the waves climb high and fast. 
  Oh! kiss me, kiss me, once again,
      Lest thy kiss should be the last. 
      Oh kiss me ere we part;
      Grow closer to my heart. 
  My heart is warmer surely than the bosom of the main.

  Oh joy!  O bliss of blisses! 
      My heart of hearts art thou. 
  Come bathe me with thy kisses,
      My eyelids and my brow. 
  Hark how the wild rain hisses,
      And the loud sea roars below.

  Thy heart beats through thy rosy limbs
      So gladly doth it stir;
  Thine eye in drops of gladness swims. 
      I have bathed thee with the pleasant myrrh;
  Thy locks are dripping balm;
      Thou shalt not wander hence to-night,
  I’ll stay thee with my kisses. 
      To-night the roaring brine
  Will rend thy golden tresses;
      The ocean with the morrow light
  Will be both blue and calm;
      And the billow will embrace thee with a kiss as soft as mine.

  No western odours wander
      On the black and moaning sea,
  And when thou art dead, Leander,
      My soul shall follow thee! 
  Oh go not yet, my love,
      Thy voice is sweet and low;
  The deep salt wave breaks in above
      Those marble steps below. 
  The turretstairs are wet
      That lead into the sea. 
  Leander! go not yet. 
  The pleasant stars have set! 
  Oh! go not, go not yet,
      Or I will follow thee.

VII

=The Mystic=

  Angels have talked with him, and showed him thrones: 
  Ye knew him not:  he was not one of ye,
  Ye scorned him with an undiscerning scorn: 
  Ye could not read the marvel in his eye,
  The still serene abstraction; he hath felt
  The vanities of after and before;
  Albeit, his spirit and his secret heart
  The stern experiences of converse lives,
  The linked woes of many a fiery change
  Had purified, and chastened, and made free. 
  Always there stood before him, night and day,
  Of wayward vary coloured circumstance,
  The imperishable presences serene,
  Colossal, without form, or sense, or sound,
  Dim shadows but unwaning presences
  Fourfaced to four corners of the sky;
  And yet again, three shadows, fronting one,
  One forward, one respectant, three but one;
  And yet again, again and evermore,
  For the two first were not, but only seemed
  One shadow in the midst of a great light,
  One reflex from eternity on time,
  One mighty countenance of perfect calm,
  Awful with most invariable eyes. 
  For him the silent congregated hours,
  Daughters of time, divinely tall, beneath
  Severe and youthful brows, with shining eyes
  Smiling a godlike smile (the innocent