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A VISION OF POETS.
171
"Ay, ay," she said, "it so must be"—
(And this time she spake cheerfully)
"Behoves thee know world's cruelty."

He bowed his forehead till his mouth
Curved in the wave, and drank unloth,
As if from rivers of the south.

His lip sobbed through the water rank,
His heart paused in him while he drank,
His brain beat heart-like—rose and sank,—

And he swooned backward to a dream,
Wherein he lay 'twixt gloom and gleam,
With Death and Life at each extreme.

And spiritual thunders, born of soul
Not cloud, did leap from mystic pole,
And o'er him roll and counter-roll,

Crushing their echoes reboant
With their own wheels. Did Heaven so grant
His spirit a sign of covenant?

At last came silence. A slow kiss
Did crown his forehead after this:
His eyelids flew back for the bliss.

The lady stood beside his head,
Smiling a thought, with hair dispread!
The moonshine seemed dishevelled

In her sleek tresses manifold;
Like Danae's in the rain of old,
That dripped with melancholy gold!

But she was holy, pale, and high—
As one who saw an ecstasy
Beyond a foretold agony.

"Rise up!" said she, with voice where song
Eddied through speech—"rise up! be strong;
And learn how right avengeth wrong."