Page:Pictures & poems.djvu/28

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"I wish that he were come to me,

 For he will come," she said.

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

 Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd?

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."