MID-RAPTURE
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hou lovely and beloved, thou my love;Whose kiss seems still the first; whose summoning eyes,Even now, as for our love-world's new sunrise,Shed very dawn; whose voice, attuned aboveAll modulation of the deep-bowered dove,Is like a hand laid softly on the soul;Whose hand is like a sweet voice to controlThose worn tired brows it hath the keeping of:-- What word can answer to thy word,--what gazeTo thine, which now absorbs within its sphereMy worshipping face, till I am mirrored thereLight-circled in a heaven of deep-drawn rays?What clasp, what kiss mine inmost heart can prove,O lovely and beloved, O my love?
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