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A VISION OF POETS.
The poet rose up on his feet:
He stood before an altar set
For sacrament, with vessels meet,
He stood before an altar set
For sacrament, with vessels meet,
And mystic altar-lights which shine
As if their flames were crystalline
Carved flames that would not shrink or pine.
As if their flames were crystalline
Carved flames that would not shrink or pine.
The altar filled the central place
Of a great church, and toward its face
Long aisles did shoot and interlace.
Of a great church, and toward its face
Long aisles did shoot and interlace.
And from it a continuous mist
Of incense (round the edges kissed
By a pure light of amethyst)
Of incense (round the edges kissed
By a pure light of amethyst)
Wound upward slowly and throbbingly,
Cloud within cloud, right silverly,
Cloud above cloud, victoriously,
Cloud within cloud, right silverly,
Cloud above cloud, victoriously,
Broke full against the arched roof,
And, thence refracting, eddied off,
And floated through the marble woof
And, thence refracting, eddied off,
And floated through the marble woof
Of many a fine-wrought architrave,—
Then, poising the white masses brave,
Swept solemnly down aisle and nave.
Then, poising the white masses brave,
Swept solemnly down aisle and nave.
And now in dark, and now in light,
The countless columns, glimmering white,
Seemed leading out to Infinite.
The countless columns, glimmering white,
Seemed leading out to Infinite.
Plunged half-way up the shaft they showed,
In the pale shifting incense-cloud
Which flowed them by, and overflowed,
In the pale shifting incense-cloud
Which flowed them by, and overflowed,
Till mist and marble seemed to blend,
And the whole temple, at the end,
With its own incense to distend;
And the whole temple, at the end,
With its own incense to distend;
The arches, like a giant's bow,
To bend and slacken,—and below,
The niched saints to come and go.
To bend and slacken,—and below,
The niched saints to come and go.
