BlessedDamozel

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1881 1st Ed.

THE BLESSED DAMOZEL.The blessed damozel leaned out
From
the gold bar of Heaven;
Her eyes
were deeper than the depth
Of waters stilled at
even;
She had three lilies in her hand,
And the stars in her hair were seven.

Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,
No wrought flowers did adorn,
But a white
rose of Mary's gift,
For service meetly worn;
Her hair
that lay along her back
Was yellow like ripe corn.

Herseemed she scarce had been a day
One of God's choristers;
The wonder was not yet quite gone
From that still look of
hers;
Albeit, to them she left, her day
Had counted as ten years.


(To one, it is ten years of years.
. . . Yet now,
and in this place,
Surely she
leaned o'er me—her hair
Fell all about my face. . . .
Nothing: the
autumn-fall of leaves.
The whole year sets apace.)

It was the
rampart of God's house
That she was standing on;
By God built over
the sheer depth
The which is Space begun;
So high, that looking downward thence
She scarce
could see the sun.

It lies in Heaven, across the flood
Of
ether, as a bridge.
Beneath, the tides of day and night
With flame and
darkness ridge
The void, as low as where this earth
Spins like a fretful midge
.


Around her, lovers, newly met
'Mid deathless love's acclaims,
Spoke
evermore among themselves
Their heart-remembered names;
And the souls mounting up to God
Went by her like thin flames.

And still she bowed herself and stooped
Out of the circling charm;
Until
her bosom must have made
The bar she leaned on warm,
And the lilies lay as if asleep
Along her bended arm.

From the
fixed place of Heaven she saw
Time like a pulse shake fierce
Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove
Within the gulf to pierce
Its path; and now she spoke as when
The stars sang in their spheres.

The sun was gone now; the curled moon
Was like a little feather
Fluttering far down the gulf; and now
She spoke through the still weather.
Her voice was like the voice
of the stars
Had when they sang together.


(Ah sweet!
Even now, in that bird's song,
Strove
not her accents there,
Fain to be hearkened? When those bells
Possessed the
mid-day air,
Strove not her steps to reach my side
Down all the echoing stair?)


‘I wish that he were come to me
,
For he will come,’ she said.
‘Have I not prayed in Heaven?—on earth,
Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd?
Are not two prayers a perfect strength?
And shall I feel afraid?

‘When round his head the aureole clings,
And he is clothed in white,
I'll take his hand and go with him
To the deep wells of light;
As unto a stream we will step down,
And bathe there in God's sight.

‘We two will stand beside that shrine,
Occult, withheld, untrod,
Whose lamps
are stirred continually
With
prayer sent up to God;
And
see our old prayers, granted, melt
Each
like a little cloud.


‘We two will lie i' the shadow of
That living mystic tree
Within whose secret growth the Dove
Is
sometimes felt to be,
While every leaf that His plumes touch
Saith His Name audibly.

‘And I myself will teach to him,
I myself, lying so,
The songs I sing here; which his
voice
Shall pause in, hushed
and slow,
And find some knowledge at each pause,
Or some new thing to know.’

(Alas!
We two, we two, thou say'st!
Yea, one wast thou with me

That
once of old. But shall God lift
To endless unity

The
soul whose likeness with thy soul
Was but its love
for thee?)


‘We two,’ she said, ‘will seek the groves

Where the lady Mary is,
With her five handmaidens, whose names
Are five sweet symphonies,
Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
Margaret and Rosalys.

Circlewise sit they, with bound locks
And
foreheads garlanded;
Into the fine cloth white like flame
Weaving the golden thread,
To fashion the birth-robes for them
Who are just born, being dead.

He shall fear, haply, and be dumb:
Then will
I lay my cheek
To his, and tell about our love,
Not once abashed or weak:
And the dear Mother will approve
My pride, and let me speak
.

‘Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,
To him round whom all souls
Kneel, the
clear-ranged unnumbered heads
Bowed with their aureoles:
And angels meeting us shall sing
To their citherns and citoles.


‘There will I ask of Christ the Lord
Thus much for him and me:—
Only to live as once on earth
With Love,—only to be,
As then
awhile, for ever now
Together, I
and he.’

She gazed and listened and then said,
Less sad of speech than mild,—
‘All this is when he comes.’ She ceased.
The light thrilled
towards her, fill'd
With angels in strong
level flight.
Her eyes prayed, and she
smil'd.

(I saw her smile.) But soon their
path
Was vague
in distant spheres:
And then she
cast her arms along
The
golden barriers,
And laid her face between her hands,
And wept. (I heard her tears
.)



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