O Earth that walls these prison bars--O Stones Which shut my body in--could I be free If these fell and the grated door which groans For every back scourged hither oped for me? Freedom were what to travel you, O Earth, When my heart makes its daily agony? And longing such as mine cannot ungirth Its bands and its mortality o'erleap. Our life is love unsatisfied from birth, Our life is longing waking or asleep, And mine has been a vigil of quick pain. O Leonora, thus it is I keep Grief in my heart and weariness of brain. How did I know these chains and bars are wrought Of frailer stuff than space, that I could gain In earth no respite, but a vision brought The truth, O Leonora? It was this: I dreamed this hopeless love, so long distraught Was never caged, but from the first was bliss, And moved like music from the meeting hour To the rapt moment of the earliest kiss Bestowed upon your hands, to gathering flower Of lips so purely yielded, the embrace Tender as dawn in April when a shower Quenches with gentleness each flowering place; So were your tears of gladness--so my hands Which stroked your golden hair, your sunny face, Even as flying clouds o'er mountain lands Caress with fleeting love the morning sun. Now I was with you, and by your commands. Your love was mine at last completely won, And waited but the blossom. How you sang, Laughed, ran about your palace rooms and none Closed doors against me, desks and closets sprang To my touch open, all your secrets lay Revealed to me in gladness--and this pang Which I had borne in bitterness day by day Was gone, nor could I bring it back, or think How it had been, or why--this heart so gay In sudden sunshine could no longer link Itself with what it was. Look! Every room Had blooms your hands had gathered white and pink, And drained from precious vases their perfume. And fruits were heaped for me in golden bowls, And tapestries from many an Asian loom Were hung for me, and our united souls Shone over treasure books--how glad you were To listen to my epic, from the scrolls Of Jerusalem, the holy sepulcher. Still as a shaft of light you sat and heard With veilèd eyes which tears could scarcely blur, But flowed upon your cheek with every word. And your hand reached for mine--you did not speak, But let your silence tell how you were stirred By love for me and wonder! What to seek In earth and heaven more? Heaven at last Was mine on earth, and for a sacred week This heaven all of heaven.