Seven Sets of Seven Songs, Set VII , opus 34

Image of beauty, when I gaze on thee,
Trembling I waken to a mystery,
How through one door we go to life or death
By spirit kindled or the sensual breath.
 
Image of beauty, when my way I go;
No single joy or sorrow do I know:
Elate for freedom leaps the starry power,
The life which passes mourns its wasted hour.
 
And, ah, to think how thin the veil that lies
Between the pain of hell and paradise!
Where the cool grass my aching head embowers
God sings the lovely carol of the flowers.

Dusk wraps the village in its dim caress;
Each chimney's vapour, like a thin grey rod,
Mounting aloft through miles of quietness,
    Pillars the skies of God.
 
Far up they break or seem to break their line,
Mingling their nebulous crests that bow and nod
Under the light of those fierce stars that shine
    Out of the calm of God.
 
Only in clouds and dreams I felt those souls
In the abyss, each fire hid in its clod;
From which in clouds and dreams the spirit rolls
    Into the vast of God.

Lightest of dancers, with no thought
Thy glimmering feet beat on my heart,	
Gayest of singers, with no care	
Waking to beauty the still air,	
More than the labours of our art,
More than our wisdom can impart,	
Thine idle ecstasy hath taught.	
 
Lost long in solemn ponderings,	
With the blind shepherd mind for guide,	
The uncreated joy in you
Hath lifted up my heart unto	
The morning stars in their first pride,	
And the angelic joys that glide	
High upon heaven-uplifted wings.

Its edges foamed with amethyst and rose,
Withers once more the old blue flower of day:
There where the ether like a diamond glows
    Its petals fade away.
 
A shadowy tumult stirs the dusky air;
Sparkle the delicate dews, the distant snows;
The great deep thrills, for through it everywhere
    The breath of Beauty blows.
 
I saw how all the trembling ages past,
Moulded to her by deep and deeper breath,
Neared to the hour when Beauty breathes her last
    And knows herself in death.

The might that shaped itself through storm and stress
In chaos, here is lulled in breathing sweet;
Under the long brown ridge in gentleness
    Its fierce old pulses beat.
 
Quiet and sad we go at eve; the fire
That woke exultant in an earlier day
Is dead; the memories of old desire
    Only in shadows play.
 
We liken love to this and that; our thought
The echo of a deeper being seems:
We kiss, because God once for beauty sought
    Within a world of dreams.

With Thee a moment! Then what dreams have play!
Traditions of eternal toil arise,
Search for the high, austere and lonely way
The Spirit moves in through eternities.
Ah, in the soul what memories arise!
 
And with what yearning inexpressible,
Rising from long forgetfulness I turn
To Thee, invisible, unrumoured, still:
White for Thy whiteness all desires burn.
Ah, with what longing once again I turn!

Heart-hidden from the outer things I rose;
The spirit woke anew in nightly birth
Unto the vastness where forever glows
The star-soul of the earth.
 
There all alone in primal ecstasy,
Within her depths where revels never tire,
The olden Beauty shines: each thought of me
Is veined through with its fire.
 
And all my thoughts are throngs of living souls;
They breathe in me, heart unto heart allied;
Their joy undimmed, though when the morning tolls
The planets may divide.