Songs of the Spirit

Lay them together, breast to maiden breast, Limb linked with limb, and lips to pallid lips, So beautiful in death—the moth o’ th’ mind Tells the grief-numbed senses ’tis but sleep— See ! the pale glimmer of a ghostly arm Flashes a spot of light !—Ah ! weary day ! ’Tis but the flickering of the candle-light And the unmanning sorrow of the heart That lends the reins to fancy’s charioteer. Lay them together, let us leave them there ! There comes a vision to my mortal eyes Of things immortal. Hark ! the growing swell Of some wild clarion through the dazzling night, Whose fairy aether suddenly illumes With silver meteors innumerable And golden showers of stars—lost worlds of thought And poets’ dreams, and jewels of virgin sighs. Hark ! the broad rings of sound go wavering on Eddying and rippling through the desart sky That now is peopled with the diamond wings That float through all the palaces of God. O now to join them rise the armies vast 34