Classic Poem

And when for us sounds nuptial hour of souls
A mystic bridal shall be held therein;
Red morn shall lend her banners, eve her star
And night her dews and moonbeams. There shall rise
A choric grandeur of unbounded sea—
The holy, holy sea; splendour of lights
Shall gather round us and shall clothe us then.

Such splendour bursts e'en now: O sky of grey,
Which veils ineffable dyes and sundown gold,
O lonely lanes and vistas in the wood,
Which twilight fills with mystery! Wan star,
White star, first star, pure font of trembling light!
O deep, adorable, ecstatic hush,
Which fills my soul with longing for the far,
The unattainable, the sky-bound verge,
Profounder hush and higher mystery!