Classic Poem

To me no mortal but a spirit blest,
A Light-girt messenger of Love art thou--
The radiant star of Hope upon thy brow.
The thrice-pure fire of Love within thy breast!
Thou comest to me as a heavenly guest,
As God's fulfilment of the purest vow
Love's heart e'er made--thou com'st to show e'en now
The Infinite, th' Eternal and the Best!

I clasp thy feet,--O fold me in thy wings,
And place thy pure white hands upon my head,
And breathe, O breathe, thy love-breath o'er mine eyes
Till, like the flame that from dark ashes springs,
My chastened spirit, from a self that's dead,
Upon the wings of Love shall heav'nward rise.