Classic Poem

WHEREIN HE CONSOLES HIS ANGUISH WITH THE HOPE OF HER SOLICITUDE

O how my thoughts choiring together made
Sweet consonant reason concerning her, as thus:
" It may be that the lilies dolorous
Chill her ... even now! ... Or that she is afraid
We falter. " But since that high-summoned maid
Fulfills His love, robbing the world and us
Of gold, perhaps her mouth grows murmurous,
Moaning, " I feel the flame that keeps you flayed. "
O loveliest miracle! O favoured mind!
O beauty without blemish, without blame!
Too late released, too soon, too soon confined
Where the unwithering leaves her temples bind:
The sacred palm is hers who in my flame
Stood cold and pure to win the world's acclaim.