But the white dove’s aspect childly, and his soft eyes beaming mildly, Loving looks, as if a full heart speedily he would outpour, Led me to expect revealing, unto which my soul appealing,―― With a strange hope o’er me stealing, such as never came before,―― “May I look for peace and comfort such as I’ve ne’er felt before?” And the bird said, “Evermore!” XII. So the bright bird thus beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheel’d a cushion’d chair in front of bird and bust and door; Then upon the soft seat sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this holy bird of yore―― What this lovely, sweet, angelic, quaint, prophetic bird of yore―― Meant by saying, “Evermore?” XIII. Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing, Till the calm light from those mild eyes seem’d to illume my bosom’s core; Banishing all fear and sadness, bringing thither peace and gladness, Driving out surmise of madness――lately coming o’er and o’er―― Madness casting dreadful shadow,――lately coming o’er and o’er―― Shadow deep’ning evermore! XIV. Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer, Swung by seraphim, whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. “Oh, my soul, thy God hath heard thee, by these angels and this bird He Hath to sweetest hopes now stirr’d thee――hopes of finding thy Annore In the far-off land of spirits――of reunion with Annore!” Quoth the dove, “For evermore!” XV. “Prophet,” said I, “thing of glory! prophet, as in ancient story, Whether sent from heaven directly, or by chance cast here ashore, Blessings many on thee rest now! yea, thou surely shalt be blest now! Come into my open’d breast now――tell me truly, I implore, _Is_ there a heaven of rest and rapture? tell me, tell me, I implore!” Quoth the white bird, “Evermore!” XVI. “Prophet,” said I, “thing of glory! prophet, as in ancient story, By that Heav’n which bends above us――by the God the good adore, Tell this soul with hope upspringing――faith undying to it bringing―― If that radiant matron singing midst the angels, named Annore, Shall be mine again to love――the sainted matron, named Annore?” And the dove said, “Evermore!” XVII. “Be that word thy sign of dwelling in my heart, of to it telling Messages of love and mercy from the far-off shining shore; Let thy white plumes be a token of the truth thy soul hath spoken; Keep my faith and hope unbroken; always perch above my door; Keep thy eyes’ light in my heart; and keep thy form above my door;” Quoth the sweet bird, “Evermore!”