The Death of Beatrice
One who has seen a river flow
Across some bare and songless waste,
Reflecting not the dearth below
But the fair sky, has surely gazed
On her and striven her soul to know.
Across some bare and songless waste,
Reflecting not the dearth below
But the fair sky, has surely gazed
On her and striven her soul to know.
One who has loved a prayer which kept
His soul (the prayer scarce understood,
Yet beautiful), when his strength slept
In tortuous paths of wrong and good,
Has felt how through men's souls she stept.
His soul (the prayer scarce understood,
Yet beautiful), when his strength slept
In tortuous paths of wrong and good,
Has felt how through men's souls she stept.
Love made her spirit like his own
Moulded in all respects to him
In loveliness and round his throne
Her thoughts, most mystical, most dim,
Discoursed sweet songs like music blown
Moulded in all respects to him
In loveliness and round his throne
Her thoughts, most mystical, most dim,
Discoursed sweet songs like music blown
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