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62
'Twas the vapour of the perfume
Of the presence that should be,
That enwrapt me!
That enwraps us,
O my Goddess, O my Queen!
And I turn
At thy feet to fall before thee;
And thou wilt not:
At thy feet to kneel and reach and kiss thy finger-tips;
And thou wilt not:
And I feel thine arms that stay me,
And I feel
O mine own, mine own, mine own,
I am thine, and thou art mine!
Χρυσέα κλῂς ἐπὶ γλώσσᾳ.
If, when in cheerless wanderings, dull and cold,
A sense of human kindliness hath found us,
We seem to have around us
An atmosphere all gold,
'Mid darkest shades a halo rich of shine,
An element, that while the bleak wind bloweth,
