Classic Poem

I.

It was but in a room;—I had been sleeping;
 The still night deepened,—and I was alone.
When on a sudden I awoke low-weeping,
 And through and through me rang thy silver tone.
And then I saw thee, sweet one, far more clearly
 Than I shall ever see again in life,
Not face to face, but soul to soul,—more nearly
 Than mother is to son, or man to wife.
Then all the room was filled as with some essence
 Ethereal, heavenly, fragrant and divine;—
God's own intoxicating gracious presence,
 Mixed with the intoxicating sense of thine,
Pervaded every shadow of the gloom
With rose-hung arches and tempestuous bloom.

II.

Tempestuous! for so wild the nectar seemed,
 So overflowing the gold cup of joy,
It was as if a damnéd murderer dreamed
 That once again he walked a happy boy.
So vast the mighty change,—so great the weeping,—
 And the spirit's eaglelike gigantic bound
From the pale earth whereon it had lain sleeping
 To crystal banks and pearl-strewn heavenly ground.
So wonderful a perfume sought the ceiling,
 So silvery a footstep trod the floor,
That all my brain and every pulse swam,—reeling
 As never mortal's pulses reeled before;
And I was swallowed up, sweet soul, in thee,
There to abide through all eternity.