MY heart is full of tenderness and tears, And tears are in mine eyes, I know not why; With all my grief, content to live for years, Or even this hour to die. My youth is gone, but that I heed not now; My love is dead, or worse than dead can be; My friends drop off like blossoms from a bough, But nothing troubles me, Only the golden flush of sunset lies Within my heart like fire, like dew within my eyes! Spirit of Beauty! whatsoe’er thou art, I see thy skirts afar, and feel thy power; It is thy presence fills this charméd hour, And fills my charmed heart; Nor mine alone, but myriads feel thee now, That know not what they feel, nor why they bow; Thou canst not be forgot, For all men worship thee, and know it not; Nor men alone, but babes with wondrous eyes, New-comers on the earth, and strangers from the skies! We hold the keys of Heaven within our hands, The gift and heirloom of a former state, And lie in infancy at Heaven’s gate, Transfigured in the light that streams along the lands! Around our pillows golden ladders rise, And up and down the skies, With winged sandals shod, The angels come, and go, the messengers of God! Nor do they, fading from us, e’er depart,―― It is the childish heart; We walk as heretofore, Adown their shining ranks, but see them nevermore! Not Heaven is gone, but we are blind with tears, Groping our way along the downward slope of years! From earliest infancy my heart was thine; With childish feet I trod thy temple aisle; Not knowing tears, I worshipped thee with smiles, Or if I ever wept, it was with joy divine! By day, and night, on land, and sea, and air,―― I saw thee everywhere! A voice of greeting from the wind was sent; The mists enfolded me with soft white arms; The birds did sing to lap me in content, The rivers wove their charms, And every little daisy in the grass Did look up in my face, and smile to see me pass! Not long can Nature satisfy the mind, Nor outward fancies feed its inner flame; We feel a growing want we cannot name, And long for something sweet, but undefined; The wants of Beauty other wants create, Which overflow on others soon or late; For all that worship thee must ease the heart, By Love, or Song, or Art: Divinest Melancholy walks with thee, Her thin white cheek forever leaned on thine; And Music leads her sister Poesy, In exultation shouting songs divine! But on thy breast Love lies,――immortal child!―― Begot of thine own longings, deep and wild: The more we worship him, the more we grow Into thy perfect image here below; For here below, as in the spheres above, All Love is Beauty, and all Beauty, Love!