My own Beloved, who hast lifted me From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown, And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully Shines out again, as all the angels see, Before thy saving kiss! My own, my own, Who camest to me when the world was gone, And I who looked for only God, found thee!

I find thee; I am safe, and strong, acid glad.

As one who stands in dewless asphodel, Looks backward on the tedious time he had In the upper life,--so I, with bosom-swell, Make witness, here, between the good and bad, That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well.