PART V.

THE PANTHEISM OF LOVE PASSING INTO THE IDEAL.

Then I rose, at dawn departing, Wan the dead earth, wan the snow, Wan the frost-beam dimly darting Where the corn-seed lurk'd below;

From that night, as streams dividing At the fountain till the sea, Wildly chafing, gently gliding, Life has twofold lives for me;

One by mart and forum passing, Vex'd reflection of the crowd; One the hush of forests glassing, Or the changes of the cloud.

By the calmer stream, for ever Dwell the ghosts that haunt the heart, And the phantoms and the river Make the Poet-World of Art.

There in all that Fancy gildeth, Still thy vanish'd smile I see; And each airy hall it buildeth Is a votive shrine to thee!

Do men praise the labour?--gladden'd That the homage may endure; Do they scorn it?--only sadden'd That thine altar is so poor.

If the Beautiful be clearer As the seeker's days decline, Should the Ideal not be nearer As my soul approaches thine?

Thus the single light bereft me Fused through all creation flows; Gazing where a sun had left me, Lo, the myriad stars arose!