Page:Astrophel and other poems (IA astrophelotherpo00swiniala).pdf/46

 Thee, therefore, thee would I come to, cleave to, cling, If haply thy heart be kind and thy gifts be good, Unknown sweet spirit, whose vesture is soft in spring, In summer splendid, in autumn pale as the wood That shudders and wanes and shrinks as a shamed thing should, In winter bright as the mail of a war-worn king Who stands where foes fled far from the face of him stood.

My spirit or thine is it, breath of thy life or of mine, Which fills my sense with a rapture that casts out fear? Pan's dim frown wanes, and his wild eyes brighten as thine, Transformed as night or as day by the kindling year. Earth-born, or mine eye were withered that sees, mine ear That hears were stricken to death by the sense divine, Earth-born I know thee: but heaven is about me here.