Where her perfection, glory-crowned, Shall rest in love for ever; When mortal systems sever, And the orbed universe is drowned, Leaving the empty skies The blank of death-closed eyes. Deep in this truth I root my trust; And know the dear One's praise, Her mutely gracious ways, When all her loveliness is dust And mosses rase her name, Will bless our world the same. As scent of flowers her worth was born Her joyous goodness spread Like music over head, Smiles now as smiles a plain of corn When in the winds of June, Lit by a shining noon. A gap of sunlight in the storm; A blossom ere the spring; Immortal whispering; A spirit manifest through form Which we can touch and kiss,-- To life such beauty is. Ah! who can doubt, though he may doubt Our solid earth will run A future round the sun, That gentle impulse given out Can never fail or die, But throbs eternally! VII. HER SHADOW. At matin time where creepers interlace We sauntered slowly, for we loved the place, And talked of passing things; I, pleased to trace Through leafy mimicry the true leaves made, The stateliness and beauty of her shade; A wavering of strange purples dimly seen, It gloomed the daisy's light, the kingcup's sheen, And drank up sunshine from the vital green. That silent shadow moving on the grass Struck me with terror it should ever pass And be blank nothing in the coming years Where, in the dreadful shadow of my fears, Her shrouded form I saw through blurring tears, My Darling's shrouded form in beauty's bloom Born with funereal sadness to her tomb. "What idle dreaming," I abruptly cried: My Lady turned, half startled, at my side, And looked inquiry: I, through shame or pride, Bantered the words as mockery of sense, Mere aimless freak of fostered indolence. She did not urge me; gentle, wise, and kind! But clasped my hand and talked: her beaming mind Arrayed in brightness all it touched. Behind, Her shadow fell forgot, as she and I Went homeward musing, smiling at the sky. Thro' pastures and thro' fields where corn grew strong; By cottage nests that could not harbour wrong; Across the bridge where laughed the stream; along The road to where her gabled mansion stood, Old, tall, and spacious, in a massy wood. We loitered toward the porch; but paused meanwhile Where Psyche holds a dial to beguile The hours of sunshine by her golden smile; And holds it like a goblet brimmed with wine, Nigh clad in trails of tangled eglantine. In the deep peacefulness which shone around My soul was soothed: no darksome vision frowned Before my sight while cast upon the ground Where Psyche's and My Lady's shadows lay, Twin graces on the flower-edged gravel way. I then but yearned for Titian's glorious power, That I by toiling one devoted hour, Might check the march of Time, and leave a dower Of rich delight that beauty I could see, For broadening generations yet to be. VIII. HER GARDEN.