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And, in the long enthralling dream,
That, ever—through each purer zone
Of love translating me—doth seem
To bring my spirit near his own,
I hear the veiled angelic tone
Of many voices; as I deem,
Assuring me of something sweet,
And strange, and wondrous, and intense;
Which thing they evermore repeat
In fair half parables, from whence
I draw a vague all-blissful sense.
For, one by one, e'en as I rise,
And feel the pure Ethereal
Refining all before my eyes:
Whole beauteous worlds material
Are seen to enter gradual
The great transparent paradise
Of this my dream; and, all revealed,
To break upon me more and more
Their inward singing souls, and yield
A wondrous secret half concealed
In all their loveliness before.
