This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
96
THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS.
And warmth, have shrunk to mildewed forms like these;
So will they die, methinks, and never know
What life was made of, till they pass above
To sun themselves for ever in the Love
Whose blessed reflex they have missed below.

And in the stillness oft my fancies please
To frame similitudes, as like a pall
This silence wraps our spirits, one and all;
Yet theirs, methinks, is Polar silence froze
Unto the centre; snows piled up on snows
'Mid icy seas where glimmer to the moon
Cold shapeless forms, and wrecks that to and fro
Drift aimless on; but like a Torrid noon
Is mine, begirt with stillness like to death,
Where large-leaved flowers upon the burning air
Hang motionless, and drink its fiery breath;
And every beast lies couched within its lair,
And bird with folded wing; yet listen! there
A pulse beats audibly, a murmur rife
Above, beneath, this sultry hush profound
Is quickening on the sense, and at a sound
Will flash and kindle, all instinct with Life!