Tailpiece

The blessed Damozel leaned outFrom the gold bar of Heaven:Her blue-grey eyes were deeper muchThan a deep water, even.She had three lilies in her hand,And the stars in her hair were seven.

Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,No wrought flowers did adorn,But a white rose of Mary's giftOn the neck meetly worn;And her hair, lying down her back,Was yellow like ripe corn.

Herseemed she scarce had been a dayOne of God's choristers;The wonder was not yet quite goneFrom that still look of hers;Albeit to them she left, her dayHad counted as ten years.

(To one it is ten years of years. . . Yet now, here in this place,Surely she leaned o'er me,--her hairFell all about my face . . .Nothing: the Autumn-fall of leaves.The whole year sets apace.)

It was the terrace of God's houseThat she was standing on,--By God built over the sheer depthIn which Space is begun;So high, that looking downward thence,She could scarce see the sun.

It lies from Heaven across the floodOf ether, as a bridge.Beneath, the tides of day and nightWith flame and blackness ridgeThe void, as low as where this earthSpins like a fretful midge.

But in those tracts, with her, it wasThe peace of utter lightAnd silence. For no breeze may stirAlong the steady flightOf seraphim; no echo there,Beyond all depth or height.

Heard hardly, some of her new friends,Playing at holy games,Spake, gentle-mouthed, among themselves,Their virginal chaste names;And the souls, mounting up to God,Went by her like thin flames.

And still she bowed herself, and stoopedInto the vast waste calm;Till her bosom's pressure must have madeThe bar she leaned on warm,And the lilies lay as if asleepAlong her bended arm.

From the fixt lull of heaven, she sawTime, like a pulse, shake fierceThrough all the worlds. Her gaze still strove,In that steep gulph, to pierceThe swarm: and then she spake, as whenThe stars sang in their spheres.

"I wish that he were come to me,For he will come," she said."Have I not prayed in solemn heaven?On earth, has he not prayed?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 himTo the deep wells of light,And we will step down as to a streamAnd bathe there in God's sight.

"We two will stand beside that shrine,Occult, withheld, untrod,Whose lamps tremble continuallyWith prayer sent up to God;And where each need, revealed, expectsIts patient period.

"We two will lie i' the shadow ofThat living mystic tree,Within whose secret growth the DoveSometimes is felt to be,While every leaf that His plumes touchSaith His name audibly.

"And I myself will teach to him--I myself, lying so--The songs I sing here; which his mouthShall pause in, hushed and slow,Finding some knowledge at each pauseAnd some new thing to know."

(Alas! to her wise simple mindThese things were all but knownBefore: they trembled on her sense,--Her voice had caught their tone.Alas for lonely Heaven! AlasFor life wrung out alone!

Alas, and though the end were reached?Was thy part understoodOr borne in trust? And for her sakeShall this too be found good?--May the close lips that knew not prayerPraise ever, though they would?)

"We two," she said, "will seek the grovesWhere the lady Mary is,With her five handmaidens, whose namesAre five sweet symphonies:--Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,Margaret, and Rosalys.

"Circle-wise sit they, with bound locksAnd bosoms covered;Into the fine cloths, white like flame,Weaving the golden thread,To fashion the birth-robes for themWho are just born, being dead.

He shall fear haply, and be dumb.Then will I lay my cheekTo his, and tell about our love,Not once abashed or weak:And the dear Mother will approveMy pride, and let me speak.

'Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,To Him round whom all soulsKneel--the unnumber'd solemn headsBowed with their aureoles:And Angels, meeting us, shall singTo their citherns and citoles.

"There will I ask of Christ the LordThus much for him and me:--To have more blessing than on earthIn nowise; but to beAs then we were,--being as thenAt peace. Yea, verily.

"Yea, verily; when he is comeWe will do thus and thus:Till this my vigil seem quite strangeAnd almost fabulous;We two will live at once, one life;And peace will be with us."

She gazed, and listened, and then said,Less sad of speech than mild;"All this is when he comes." She ceased;The light thrilled past her, filledWith Angels, in strong level lapse.Her eyes prayed, and she smiled.

(I saw her smile.) But soon their flightWas vague 'mid the poised spheres.And then she cast her arms alongThe golden barriers,And laid her face between her hands,And wept (I heard her tears).