And still she bowed herself, and stooped Into the vast waste calm; Till her bosom’s pressure must have made The bar she leaned on warm, And the lilies lay as if asleep Along her bended arm. X. From the fixt lull of heaven, she saw Time, like a pulse, shake fierce Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove, In that steep gulph, to pierce The swarm: and then she spake, as when The stars sang in their spheres. XI. "I wish that he were come to me, For he will come," she said. "Have I not prayed in solemn heaven? On earth, has he not prayed? Are not two prayers a perfect strength? And shall I feel afraid? XII. "When round his head the aureole clings, And he is clothed in white, I’ll take his hand, and go with him To the deep wells of light, And we will step down as to a stream And bathe there in God’s sight. [Illustration: "’We two will stand beside that shrine.’"] XIII. "We two will stand beside that shrine, Occult, withheld, untrod, Whose lamps tremble continually With prayer sent up to God; And where each need, revealed, expects Its patient period. XIV. "We two will lie i’ the shadow of That living mystic tree, Within whose secret growth the Dove Sometimes is felt to be, While every leaf that His plumes touch Saith His name audibly. XV. "And I myself will teach to him— I myself, lying so— The songs I sing here; which his mouth Shall pause in, hushed and slow, Finding some knowledge at each pause And some new thing to know." XVI. (Alas! to _her_ wise simple mind These things were all but known Before: they trembled on her sense,— Her voice had caught their tone. Alas for lonely Heaven! Alas For life wrung out alone! [Illustration: "’And I myself will teach to him.’"] XVII. Alas, and though the end were reached? Was _thy_ part understood Or borne in trust? And for her sake Shall this too be found good?— May the close lips that knew not prayer Praise ever, though they would?) XVIII. "We two," she said, "will seek the groves Where the lady Mary is, With her five handmaidens, whose names Are five sweet symphonies:— Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, Margaret, and Rosalys. XIX. "Circle-wise sit they, with bound locks And bosoms coveréd; Into the fine cloths, white like flame, Weaving the golden thread, To fashion the birth-robes for them Who are just born, being dead. XX. He shall fear haply, and be dumb. Then will I lay my cheek To his, and tell about our love, Not once abashed or weak: And the dear Mother will approve My pride, and let me speak. [Illustration: "’Herself shall bring us, hand in hand.’"]