"I wish that he were come to me,

For he will come," she said.

"Have not I prayed in Heaven?-on earth,

Lord, Lord, has he not prayed?

Are not two prayers a perfect strength?

And shall I feel afraid?

"When round his head the aureole clings,
And he is clothed in white,

I'll take his hand and go with him
To the deep wells of light;

As unto a stream we will step down,
And bathe there in God's sight.

"We two will stand beside that shrine,
Occult, withheld, untrod,
Whose lamps are stirred continually
With prayer sent up to God;

And see our old prayers, granted, melt
Each like a little cloud.

"We two will lie i' the shadow of

That living mystic tree

Within whose secret growth the Dove

Is sometimes felt to be,

While every leaf that His plumes touch
Saith His Name audibly.

"And I myself will teach to him,

I myself, lying so,

The songs I sing here; which his voice

Shall pause in, hushed and slow,
And find some knowledge at each pause,
Or some new thing to know."

(Alas! we two, we two, thou say'st!

Yea, one wast thou with me

That once of old. But shall God lift

To endless unity

The soul whose likeness with thy soul

Was but its love for thee?)

"We two," she said, "will seek the groves Where the lady Mary is,

With her five handmaidens, whose names

Are five sweet symphonies, Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, Margaret and Rosalys.

"Circlewise sit they, with bound locks
And foreheads garlanded;

Into the fine cloth white like flame
Weaving the golden thread,

To fashion the birth-robes for them
Who are just born, being dead.

"He shall fear, haply, and be dumb:
Then will I lay my cheek
To his, and tell about our love,
Not once abashed or weak:
And the dear Mother will approve
My pride, and let me speak.

"Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,
To Him round whom all souls
Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads
Bowed with their aureoles:

And angels meeting us shall sing

To their citherns and citoles.

"There will I ask of Christ the Lord

Thus much for him and me:Only to live as once on earth

With Love, only to be,

As then awhile, for ever now
Together, I and he."

She gazed and listened and then said,

Less sad of speech than mild,

"All this is when he comes." She ceased.

The light thrilled towards her, filled

With angels in strong level flight.

Her eyes prayed, and she smiled.

(I saw her smile.) But soon their path
Was vague in distant spheres:

And then she cast her arms along

The golden barriers,

And laid her face between her hands,

And wept. (I heard her tears.)

Dante Gabriel Rossetti [1828-1882]

A SONG OF ANGIOLA IN HEAVEN

FLOWERS, that have died upon my Sweet,
Lulled by the rhythmic dancing beat
Of her young bosom under you,—
Now will I show you such a thing
As never, through thick buds of Spring,
Betwixt the daylight and the dew,

The Bird whose being no man knows—
The voice that waketh all night through,
Tells to the Rose.

For lo, a garden-place I found,

Well filled of leaves, and stilled of sound,

Well flowered, with red fruit marvelous;
And 'twixt the shining trunks would flit
Tall knights and silken maids, or sit
With faces bent and amorous;—
There, in the heart thereof, and crowned
With woodbine and amaracus,
My Love I found.

Alone she walked,-ah, well I wis,
My heart leapt up for joy of this!-
Then when I called to her her name,-
The name, that like a pleasant thing
Men's lips remember, murmuring,-

At once across the sward she came,-
Full fain she seemed, my own dear maid,
And asked ever as she came,

"Where hast thou stayed?"

"Where hast thou stayed?" she asked, as though The long years were an hour ago;

But I spake not, nor answered,
For, looking in her eyes, I saw
A light not lit of mortal law;

And in her clear cheek's changeless red,
And sweet, unshaken speaking found

That in this place the Hours were dead,
And Time was bound.

"This is well done," she said, "in thee,
O Love, that thou art come to me,
To this green garden glorious;
Now truly shall our life be sped
In joyance and all goodlihed,

For here all things are fair to us,
And none with burden is oppressed,
And none is poor or piteous,—
For here is Rest.

"No formless Future blurs the sky;
Men mourn not here, with dull dead eye,
By shrouded shapes of Yesterday;

Betwixt the Coming and the Past
The flawless life hangs fixen fast
In one unwearying To-Day,
That darkens not; for Sin is shriven,
Death from the doors is thrust away,
And here is Heaven."

At "Heaven" she ceased;-and lifted up
Her fair head like a flower-cup,

With rounded mouth, and eyes aglow;
Then set I lips to hers, and felt,—
Ah, God,--the hard pain fade and melt,
And past things change to painted show;
The song of quiring birds outbroke;
The lit leaves laughed-sky shook, and lo,
I swooned, and woke.

And now, O Flowers,

-Ye that indeed are dead,—

Now for all waiting hours,
Well am I comforted;

For of a surety, now, I see,

That, without dim distress
Of tears, or weariness,

My Lady, verily, awaiteth me;
So that until with Her I be,
For my dear Lady's sake

I am right fain to make

Out from my pain a pillow, and to take
Grief for a golden garment unto me;

Knowing that I, at last, shall stand
In that green garden-land,

And, in the holding of my dear Love's hand,
Forget the grieving and the misery.

Austin Dobson [1840

THE HOUND OF HEAVEN

I FLED Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;

And shot, precipitated

Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears, From those strong Feet that followed, followed after. But with unhurrying chase,

And unperturbèd pace,

Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,

They beat and a Voice beat

More instant than the Feet

"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."

I pleaded, outlaw-wise,

By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
Trellised with intertwining charities;

(For, though I knew His love Who followed,
Yet was I sore adread