This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
176
VII.
To catch their music-meaning, gentlest gales
Curled up the waves before their prow, and sung
And whistled clear within their fluttering sails,
To lure them to the country whence they sprung.

      So when they met they loved;
They took not counsel of the Eye or Ear;
These are but erring vassals, and the clear
Soul-region in its rarer atmosphere
Needs not their failing witness. This was June,
The noon of Life,—the heart was at its noon;
A noon by Summer lulled to sleep, and hid
Beneath its leaves, half-stirring to a tune
Self sung in happy dreams; while sunshine slid
Adown the hill's steep side, and overtook
And meshed within its golden net, each nook
O'ershadowed with dark growths, and filled each cleft,
And thunder-splintered chasm storms had left;
When these two mounted on a blissful tide,
Sailed each within the other's soul—no oar
Flashed light along their way, no canvas wide
Impelled them; but a steadfast current bore
Them o'er the level champaign, till they neared
A Palace, where, through open gate and door,
They gazed together on the land that lay
Before them, glittering peak and gleaming bay,
As on a country known to them before,
Though unbeheld; and even as a King
Upon his crowning day new robes will fling
On all around him, so each common thing