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A VISION OF POETS.
173
Alone, amid the shifting scene,
That central altar stood serene
In its clear stedfast taper-sheen.

Then first, the poet was aware
Of a chief angel standing there
Before that altar, in the glare.

His eyes were dreadful, for you saw
That they saw God—his lips and jaw,
Grand-made and strong, as Sinai's Law

They could enunciate, and refrain
From vibratory after-pain;
And his brow's height was sovereign—

On the vast background of his wings
Arose his image! and he flings,
From each plumed arc, pale glitterings

And fiery flakes (as beateth more
Or less, the angel-heart!) before,
And round him, upon roof and floor,

Edging with fire the shifting fumes:
While at his side, 'twixt lights and glooms,
The phantasm of an organ booms.

Extending from which instrument
And angel, right and left-way bent,
The poet's sight grew sentient

Of a strange company around
And toward the altar,—pale and crowned,
With sovran eyes of depth profound.

Deathful their faces were; and yet
The power of life was in them set—
Never forgot, nor to forget.

Sublime significance of mouth,
Dilated nostril full of youth,
And forehead royal with the truth.