DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI
Herseem'd she scarce had been a day- One of God's choristers,
The wonder was not yet quite gone From that still look of hers;
Albeit, to them she left, her day Had counted as ten years.
(To one, it is ten years of years.
. . . Yet now, and in this place, Surely she lean'd o'er me her hair
Fell all about my face. . . . Nothing the autumn-fall of leaves.
The whole year sets apace.)
It was the rampart of God's house
That she was standing on ; By God built over the bhccr depth
The which is Space begun; So high, that looking downward thence
She scarce could see the sun.
It lies in Heaven, across the flood
Of ether, as a bridge. Beneath, the tides of day and night
With flame and darkness ridge The void, as low as where this earth
Spins like a fretful midge.
Around her, lovers, newly met 'Mid deathless love's acclaims,
Spoke evermore among themselves Their hcart-rcmcmber'd names;
And the souls mounting up to God Went by her like thin flames.
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