I.
Yes, I will tell thee what, a week ago,
I dreamt of thee, and all the joy therein
Which I conceiv'd, and all the holy din
Of throbbing music, which appear'd to flow
From room to room, as if to make me know
The power thereof to lead me out of sin.
II.
Methought I saw thee in a ray of light,
This side a grove—a dream within a dream—
With eyes of tender pleading, and the gleam
Of far-off summers in thy tresses bright;
And I did tremble at the gracious sight,
As one who sees a naiad in a stream.
III.
I follow'd thee. I knew that, in the wood,
Where thus we met, there was a trysting-place.
I follow'd thee, as mortals in a chase
Follow the deer. I knew that it was good
To track thy step, and promptly understood
The fitful blush that flutter'd to thy face.
IV.
I followed thee to where a brook did run
Close to a grot; and there I knelt to thee.
And then a score of birds flew over me,—
Birds which arrived because the day was done,
To sing the Sanctus of the setting sun;
And then I heard thy voice upon the lea.
V.
"Follow!" it cried. I rose and follow'd fast;
And, in my dream, I felt the dream was true,
And that, full soon, Titania, with her crew
Of imps and fays, would meet me on the blast.
But this was hindered; and I quickly passed
Into the valley where the cedars grew.
VI.
And what a scene, O God! and what repose,
And what sad splendour in the burning west:
A languid sun low-dropping to his rest,
And incense rising, as of old it rose,
To do him honour at the daylight's close,—
The birds entranced, and all the winds repress'd.
VII.
I followed thee. I came to where a shrine
Stood in the trees, and where an oaken gate
Swung in the air, so turbulent of late.
I touch'd thy hand; it quiver'd into mine;
And then I look'd into thy face benign,
And saw the smile for which the angels wait.
VIII.
And lo! the moon had sailed into the main
Of that blue sky, as if therein did poise
A silver boat; and then a tuneful noise
Broke from the copse where late a breeze was slain;
And nightingales, in ecstasy of pain,
Did break their hearts with singing the old joys.
IX.
"Is this the spot?" I cried, "is this the spot
Where I must tell thee all my heart's desire?
Is this the time when I must drink the fire,
And eat the snow, and find it fever-hot?
I freeze with heat, and yet I fear it not;
And all my pulses thrill me like a lyre."
X.
A wondrous light was thrown upon thy face;
It was the light within; it was the ray
Of thine own soul. And then a voice did say,
"Glory to God the King, and Jesu's grace
Here and hereafter!" and about the place
A radiance shone surpassing that of day.
XI.
It was thy voice. It was the voice I prize
More than the sound of April in the dales,
More than the songs of larks and nightingales,
And more than the teachings of the worldly-wise.
"Glory to God," it said, "for in the skies,
And here on earth, 'tis He alone prevails."