Page:Prometheus Bound, and other poems.djvu/119

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And, in the tumult and excess

Of act and passion under sun,

We sometimes hear—oh, soft and far,

As silver star did touch with star,

The kiss of Peace and Righteousness

Through all things that are done.

God keeps his holy mysteries

Just on the outside of man's dream!

In diapason slow, we think

To hear their pinions rise and sink,

While they float pure beneath His eyes,

Like swans adown a stream.

Abstractions, are they, from the forms

Of His great beauty?—exaltations

From His great glory?—strong preyisions

Of what we shall be?—intuitions

Of what we are—in calms and storms,

Beyond our peace and passions?

Things nameless! which, in passing so,

Do stroke us with a subtle grace.

We say, "Who passes?"—they are dumb:

We cannot see them go or come:

Their touches fell soft—cold—as snow

Upon a blind man's face.