Then like a clash of cymbals suddenly She, slave of Time, O’ercomes all tokens of Eternity, Nay, rather with Eternity is made one, One with recurrent rhyme Of arch, with flash of window, with the sun Yellow on lofty walls sweet echoes climb. THE LANTHORN “I never saw a soul save in the body.” Haply within the woods of Paradise We see unblinded of our earthly eyes, Kiss with unthwarted lips, and taste our one Desired and complete communion. There scabbards that do sheath the gleaming blade, There globes which muffle in the naked light Aside being cast, naked and unafraid, Lovers may stand in one another’s sight. Now since through fleshly glass Thy flame, O Love, Shines clear, and nowhere else doth visibly move; That lanthorn bright I will bow down before, Kneeling the crystal body to adore. SONNET My native land is only where you are, You are my home, my roof-tree, hearth, and fire. I have been home-sick for you, wandering far, But now have reached the end of my desire. You are my kingdom small and very fair, Your breasts my snowy hills, my lakes your eyes, Your face my garden, and my woods your hair, Your breath the breeze of that sweet Paradise. Lie fenced within the circle of these arms, Dear country: you whose air to breathe is Peace, Peace deeper than Death, more soft than Night-- Soother of griefs. Here, safe from wild alarms, I’ll bide, plucking from off your sighing trees The fruit of dreams, red apples of delight. SINCE I HAVE LOVED Since I have loved, I have put the world in my heart. The great clouds scattering over Cotswold seem But shadows of those others counterpart: Those clouds standing over hills of dream-- Hills of dream in a country that is called Peace--a country by my own heart walled. Since I do love and bear you in my breast, Who are both my beloved country and its queen, I wonder not to see red dawn uprise. I say no more how restful is the green Of summer fields, for looking on your eyes It is as though I had died and found my rest. SAFETY You are like a pool reflecting shadowy trees Of green and glint of sunbeams mixed together (And I had forgotten both) in water clear. Full of the foulness of blood and lust and fear Is the past now. I break its holding tether, And stand once more with guiding Innocences. You are like silence in which I can be myself. You are the truth of music: something lost Ages and ages ago, and forgotten, and found. Ere death my feet are set upon holy ground, I, wanderer amid a wandering host, Come home, led by the magic of one sweet elf. HAPPY SINGING Men have made songs, And I among them, Because some hell Of grief had wrung them. The tolling bell Will often bring Torture to force A man to sing.