In the large atmosphere of such a worship, seeing all things, as we have said, _sub specie eternitatis_, the poet portrays the sweetest intimacies of communion, soul with soul; questioning, recording, comparing from time to time the recurring phases of joy and hope, memory and regret. “When do I see thee most?” he asks in the exquisite sonnet called “Lovesight”: “When do I see thee most, beloved one? When in the light the spirits of mine eyes Before thy face, their altar, solemnize The worship of that love through thee made known? Or when in the dusk hours, (we two alone,) Close-kissed and eloquent of still replies Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage lies, And my soul only sees thy soul its own?” “What of her glass without her?” he cries again after the great bereavement which has removed the visible presence of the beloved: “What of her glass without her? The blank grey There where the pool is blind of the moon’s face. Her dress without her? The tossed empty space Of cloud-rack whence the moon has passed away. Her paths without her? Day’s appointed sway Usurped by desolate night. Her pillowed place Without her? Tears, ah me! for love’s good grace, And cold forgetfulness of night or day.” And with what fine insight does Rossetti pierce the tender subtleties of the woman’s responsive heart! Has any other English poet discerned so well that retrospective instinct which clings to the early semblances of pure and non-sexual love? —“She loves him, for her infinite soul is love. * * * * * * With wifely breast to breast And circling arms, she welcomes all command Of love,—her soul to answering ardours fanned: Yet as morn springs or twilight sinks to rest, _Ah! who shall say she deems not loveliest The hour of sisterly sweet hand-in-hand?_”