Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/151

 Shall one, whose mind co-operates to found The vision of a world with ne'er a bound, Merge into some mere image, or a feeling From forth an alien spirit swiftly stealing? Material appearance can be naught, Save in a human, or a foreign thought. All this imperial fabric of the sense Is but our own dull rendering of intense Supernal realms of righteousness and love, Fair shadow of a fairer realm above.

The spirit grows the form for self-expression, And for a hall where she may hold high session With sister souls, who, allied with her, create Her fair companion, her espousèd mate. Ever the hidden Person will remould For all our lives fresh organs manifold, Gross for the earthly, for the heavenly fine, Ethereal woof, wherein their graces shine. And there be secret avenues, with doors Yielding access to inmost chamber floors Of the soul's privacy; all varying frames, Responsive to the several spirit-flames. The vital form our lost now animate Is one with what in their low mortal state They made their own; the corse mere ashes, waste, For all grand uses of the world replaced. A larva needs no more the unliving husk, When soaring winged he rends the dwelling dusk.