Then, as I leaned above their crimson bloom, The flower of day grew old and withered, Night with a sigh sat down beside her loom Winding her shuttle with a silver thread. Suddenly from the starlit plains of air Ethereal tumult, airy tempest blew, Immortal music showering everywhere, Flashed to the earth in an harmonious dew, Leaped jubilant from cloud to craggy cloud, Binding the moon in a melodious chain, Storming the troubled stars, a luminous crowd, Dropping in fiery streaks to earth again. From out the windows of God's house Faint as a far-echoing wave, The angels, bending their calm brows, Song for song in answer gave; And faster than a falcon flies, Thronging spirits in a cluster Passed before my dazzled eyes, Shedding an aerial lustre, Burning with translucent fire, Shaking from their dewy wings Wild, ineffable desire Of starry and immortal things, Torturing with delicious pain Past telling sweet, the bewildered heart, Piercing the poor mortal brain With beauty, a keen fiery dart. Ah! Even as an oracle Whose soul a god has breathed upon, The beauteousness unbearable Possessed me so all strength was gone. Smitten by a barbed joy, My sense with rapturous pain grew dim, Joy pierced me as it would destroy. Still higher rose the celestial hymn. And then of all that starry throng That streamed toward the upper sky, One spirit darted down again, And stood upon a bough near by. "Even I unsealed thy sight," he said. Alas, that shape I did not know, For he was so transfigured, So circled by the unearthly glow Of his pulsating aureole; I who so well the flesh had known I did not know the soul. With troubled eyes he bended down, And all about me where I stood Every blossom, every tree, All the branches of that wood Were trembling in their ecstasy. They knew ere I had half divined. But at his voice old dreams awoke In dusty chambers of the mind, And when again he softly spoke With sudden tears mine eyes were wet. And lowlier still he bent his head: "Dost thou, dear friend, not know me yet?" "Yes, for I know thy voice," I said. "Dear Phantom, this immortal guise, This disembodied self of thine, Hath dazed mine unacquainted eyes. Thou dweller on the steps divine, Thou image of a god's desire, Thou spark of the celestial flame Art fashioned out of wind and fire And elements without a name; What sacred fingers mingled them And trembled with a god's delight? Thy body is a burning gem, Thy limbs are chrysolite. A glory hangs about thy head For thou in thine immortal lot In heaven's own light art garmented. I know thee, yet I know thee not." Then he, with shining eyes half shut, Radiantly standing there: "I did but change my leafy hut For a mansion in the air, The eerie wood, the enchanted ground, The dim, bird-haunted glades we trod, Grew all untuneful when I found