Making out words and prose and rhyme, Till it seemed that the music furled Its wings like a task fulfilled, and dropped {560} From under the words it first had propped, And left them midway in the world, Word took word as hand takes hand, I could hear at last, and understand, And when I held the unbroken thread, The gypsy said:-- “And so at last we find my tribe. And so I set thee in the midst, And to one and all of them describe What thou saidst and what thou didst, {570} Our long and terrible journey through, And all thou art ready to say and do In the trials that remain: I trace them the vein and the other vein That meet on thy brow and part again, Making our rapid mystic mark; And I bid my people prove and probe Each eye’s profound and glorious globe, Till they detect the kindred spark In those depths so dear and dark, {580} Like the spots that snap and burst and flee, Circling over the midnight sea. And on that round young cheek of thine I make them recognize the tinge, As when of the costly scarlet wine They drip so much as will impinge And spread in a thinnest scale afloat One thick gold drop from the olive’s coat Over a silver plate whose sheen Still through the mixture shall be seen. {590} For so I prove thee, to one and all, Fit, when my people ope their breast, To see the sign, and hear the call, And take the vow, and stand the test Which adds one more child to the rest-- When the breast is bare and the arms are wide, And the world is left outside. For there is probation to decree, And many and long must the trials be Thou shalt victoriously endure, {600} If that brow is true and those eyes are sure; Like a jewel-finder’s fierce assay Of the prize he dug from its mountain tomb,-- Let once the vindicating ray Leap out amid the anxious gloom, And steel and fire have done their part, And the prize falls on its finder’s heart; So, trial after trial past, Wilt thou fall at the very last Breathless, half in trance {610} With the thrill of the great deliverance, Into our arms forevermore; And thou shalt know, those arms once curled About thee, what we knew before, How love is the only good in the world. Henceforth be loved as heart can love, Or brain devise, or hand approve! Stand up, look below, It is our life at thy feet we throw To step with into light and joy; {620} Not a power of life but we employ To satisfy thy nature’s want; Art thou the tree that props the plant, Or the climbing plant that seeks the tree-- Canst thou help us, must we help thee? If any two creatures grew into one,