ssed the sunset and the stars,
And all the heights and depths of temporal pain,
Till seas of seraph music round them rolled.

And in that mystic plane
They felt their mortal years
Break away as a dream of pain
Breaks in a stream of tears.

Love, of whom life had birth,
See now, is death not sweet?
Love, is this heaven or earth?
Both are beneath thy feet.

Nay, both within thy heart!
O Love, the glory nears;
The Gates of Pearl are flung apart,
The Rose of Heaven appears.

Across the deeps of change,
Like pangs of visible song,
What angel-spirits, remote and strange,
Thrill through the starry throng?

And oh, what wind that blows
Over the mystic Tree,
What whisper of the sacred Rose,
What murmur of the sapphire Sea,
What dreams that faint and fail
From harps of burning gold,
But tell in heaven the sweet old tale
An earthly sunset told?

Hark! like a holy bell
Over that spirit Sea,
Time, in the world it loves so well,
Tolls for Eternity.

Earth calls us once again,
And, through the mystic Gleam,
The grey old City of mortal pain
Dawns on the heavenly dream.

Sweet as the voice of birds
At dawn, the years return,
With little songs and sacred words
Of human hearts that yearn.

The sweet same waves resound
Along our earthly shore;
But now this earth we lost and found
Is heaven for evermore.

Hark! how the cosmic choir,
In sea and flower and sun,
Recalls that triumph of desire
Which made all music one:

One universal soul,
Completing joy with pain,
And harmonising with the Whole
The temporal refrain,

Until from hill and plain,
From bud and blossom and tree,
From shadow and shining after rain,
From cloud and clovered bee,
From earth and sea and sky,
From laughter and from tears,
One molten golden harmony
Fulfils the yearning years.

_Love, of whom death had birth,
See now, is life not sweet?
Love, is this heaven or earth?
Both are beneath thy feet._

_In other worlds I loved you, long ago;
Love that hath no beginning hath no end;
The sea-waves whisper, low and sweet and low,
In other worlds I loved you, long ago;
The May-boughs murmur and the roses know
The message that the dawning moon shall send;
In othe