In autumn moonlight, when the white air wan Is fragrant in the wake of summer hence, 'Tis sweet to sit entranced, and muse thereon In melancholy and godlike indolence: When the proud spirit, lull'd by mortal prime To fond pretence of immortality, Vieweth all moments from the birth of time, All things whate'er have been or yet shall be. And like the garden, where the year is spent, The ruin of old life is full of yearning, Mingling poetic rapture of lament With flowers and sunshine of spring's sure returning; Only in visions of the white air wan By godlike fancy seized and dwelt upon. 58 When first I saw thee, dearest, if I say The spells that conjure back the hour and place, And evermore I look upon thy face, As in the spring of years long pass'd away; No fading of thy beauty's rich array, No detriment of age on thee I trace, But time's defeat written in spoils of grace, From rivals robb'd, whom thou didst pity and slay. So hath thy growth been, thus thy faith is true, Unchanged in change, still to my growing sense, To life's desire the same, and nothing new: But as thou wert in dream and prescience At love's arising, now thou stand'st to view In the broad noon of his magnificence. 59 'Twas on the very day winter took leave Of those fair fields I love, when to the skies The fragrant Earth was smiling in surprise At that her heaven-descended, quick reprieve, I wander'd forth my sorrow to relieve; Yet walk'd amid sweet pleasure in such wise As Adam went alone in Paradise, Before God of His pity fashion'd Eve. And out of tune with all the joy around I laid me down beneath a flowering tree, And o'er my senses crept a sleep profound; In which it seem'd that thou wert given to me, Rending my body, where with hurried sound I feel my heart beat, when I think of thee. 60 Love that I know, love I am wise in, love, My strength, my pride, my grace, my skill untaught, My faith here upon earth, my hope above, My contemplation and perpetual thought: The pleasure of my fancy, my heart's fire, My joy, my peace, my praise, my happy theme, The aim of all my doing, my desire Of being, my life by day, by night my dream: Love, my sweet melancholy, my distress, My pain, my doubt, my trouble, my despair, My only folly and unhappiness, And in my careless moments still my care: O love, sweet love, earthly love, love divine, Say'st thou to-day, O love, that thou art mine? 61