Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/987

 Heaven puts an arm out. She is safe. The shore Gains some new fountain; or the lilied lawn A rarer sort of rose: but ah, poor Faun! To thee she shall be changed for evermore.

Chase not too close the fading rapture. Leave To Love his long auroras, slowly seen. Be ready to release as to receive. Deem those the nearest, soul to soul, between Whose lips yet lingers reverence on a sigh. Judge what thy sense can reach not, most thine own, If once thy soul hath seized it. The unknown Is life to love, religion, poetry.

The moon had set. There was not any light, Save of the lonely legion'd watch-stars pale In outer air, and what by fits made bright Hot oleanders in a rosy vale Searched by the lamping fly, whose little spark Went in and out, like passion's bashful hope. Meanwhile the sleepy globe began to slope A ponderous shoulder sunward thro' the dark.

And the night pass'd in beauty like a dream. Aloof in those dark heavens paused Destiny, With her last star descending in the gleam Of the cold morrow, from the emptied sky. The hour, the distance from her old self, all The novelty and loneness of the place Had left a lovely awe on that fair face, And all the land grew strange and magical.