Julia! the welcome of your drowsy voice Went through me like the warmth of priceless wine-- It showed your understanding, that you know How it is with a man, and how it is with me Who work by day and sometimes drift by night About this hellish city. Though you know That I am fifty-one, can you imagine My feeling with no children growing up? My feeling as of one who sees a play And afterwards sits somewhere at a table And talks with friends about the different parts Over a sandwich and a glass of beer? My feeling with this money which I've made And cannot use? Sometimes the stress of working The money dulls the fancy which could use it In splendid dreams or in the art of life. Well, here was I ringing your bell at last At half-past one, and there you stood before me With a sleepy voice and a sleepy smile, with hands So warm, and cheeks so red from sleep, not vexed, But like a child, awakened, who smiles at you With half-shut eyes and kisses you, so you Gave me a kiss. The world seems better, Julia, For that kiss which you gave me at the door.... Breakfast? Why, toast and coffee, not too strong, My heart acts queer of late.... I want to say Lest I forget it, if you ever hear From Arabel or Francis what I said To Francis when he told me he intended To marry Arabel, why just remember Our talk this morning and forget I said it-- I'm sorry that I said it. But, you see, That night we met, I being fifty-one And old at what men call the game, looked on With steady eye and quiet nerve, I saw you Just as I'd see a woman anywhere; And I found you as I'd found others before you, But with this difference so it seemed to me: What had been false with them was real with you, What had been shame with them with you was life, What had been craft with them with you was nature, What had been sin with them to you was good, What had been vice with them to you the honest And uncorrupted innocence of a human Heart so human looking on our souls. What had been coarse to them to you was clean As rain is, or fresh flowers, all things that grow And move and sing along creation's way. You came to me like friendship, what you gave Was friendship's gift, when friends think least of self And least of motive. And it is through you That I have risen out of the pit where sneers And laughter, looks and words obscene, Blaspheme our nature. It is through you, Julia, As one amid great beach trees where soft mosses Pillow our heads and where we see the clouds Upon their infinite sailings and the lake Washes beneath us, and we lie and think How this has been forever and will be When we are dust a thousand, thousand years, Yet how life is eternal--just as one Who there falls into prayer for ecstasy Of wonder, prophecy could not blaspheme The Eternal Power (as he might well blaspheme The gospel hymns and ritual) that I