Classic Poem

"Propter veritatem, et mansuetudinem, et justitiam: et deducet te
mirabiliter dextera tua. Alleluia."

With her clear eyes lifted,
Dreaming, lighting, swift and quelling
On all darkness drifted
From this earth, a vacant dwelling,--
With her haste flashing, flowing
Bright above all fear or scorning,--
I have seen my darling going
Up the mountains of the morning!

Oh, like harps wrung thrilling,
Like those viols that voice their answer
To the wild still willing
Of the heavens' necromancer,
From the flowers around her rises
Music--gold, more gold in glory--
First of all those pure surprises
At the ending of the story.

Through the trees she passes
Where the purple spreads in shadow,
Through the dew-bright grasses
Of that heaven-quiet meadow,
Up the way of climbing vines,
Never faltering, never failing,
Where the blue of heaven shines
Through the sun for only veiling.

Flowers and leaves together sing
Like those birds in clouds that choir.
Aching-sweet from silver string,
Purling flute and golden wire
Music flows no mortal knows
Even in April thronged with voices.
Deeper glory throbs and glows
Till the trembling air rejoices.

Sweet and deep, sweet and deep
In the heart dark and aching,
Glamorous waves across my sleep
Is that tide of splendor breaking.
Pure and high, pure and high,
Shaking every star to chiming,
Till the wonder-stricken sky
Thrills and trembles to the rhyming!

Seraphim and cherubim
On their wings' immaculate wonder
Rise in whirlwinds from the dim,
Pass through voids of rolling thunder,
Mount from lightning into light,
One great surge of praise awaking,
White and white into the height--
And the music trembling--breaking--!

But above the wood of fear,
On one white road forever,
From the darkness mounts my dear
In her still and bright endeavor,
With her kind brave eyes,
Honest hands and heart of healing,--
Lips that rapturously surmise--
Little smiles upon them stealing.

For--a violet twilight now
Spreads--as arms had cast a shadow
And the Godhead stooped to bow
Over phantom hill and meadow!
And--again--a field
Floats before her--as her choice is--
Where her heaven is revealed
In those small and rippling voices.

Elfin flowers invoked alive,
Fairy clouds from hives of honey
Like no angry human hive,
Billows of brightness swift and sunny,
Pattering, chuckling, panting haste,
Rosy-shy--though never sweeter
Than the three her arms embraced--
Heaven's children flock to meet her!

There are harps in Heaven
That must fail against that splendor;
And the Sacred Seven
Bow their heads in mute surrender.
Holy Mother of God, tonight
Bend your star-bright eyes and brimming
On the sweetness of that sight
In that meadow, dusk and dimming!

For, with hands in grasp so small
Of the tumbling ones that follow,--
With her smile upon them all,
Up the hill and through the hollow,--
With that rich voice crooning, waking
Sparkling gusts of joy and laughter,--
Climbs the Light of my forsaking,
Mounts the Hope of my hereafter!

Harshest song, bow down!
Mutinous words!--to make immortal
How the heavens in starlight drown
As she enters in the Portal,
How the Heavenly City glows,
How the bells cry, "We have found her!"
As through tears and praise she goes
With the children crowding round her!