I24 
ANIMA LUNAE 
 
The cedar’s branching hair, 
The comet’s glory, and the woman’s smile, 
To strange devices otherwise not heard 
Without the lute’s own word. 
 
So on the soul of Zôhra grew 
A fashioned orb of fiery dew : 
Yet (as cool water on a leaf) 
It touched his spirit not with grief, 
Although its name was sorrow. 
“ O for a name to borrow ” 
(He mused) “ some semblance for this subtle sense 
Of new experience ! 
For on my heart, untouched, my mind not used 
To any metre mused, 
Save the one tranquil and continuous rhyme 
Of joy exceeding time, 
Here the joy changes, but abides for ever, 
Here on the shining river 
Where the dusk gathers, and tall trees begin 
To wrap the shallop in, 
Sweet shade not cast of sun or moon or star, 
But of some light afar 
Softer and sweeter than all these—what light 
Burns past the wondrous night 
Of yonder crags ?—what riven chasm hides 
In those mysterious sides ? 
Somewhere this stream must leap 
Down vales divinely steep 
Into some vain unprofitable deep ! ”