Orpheus

The voice of my pilot Steals soft to insist. O azure of sky, let Me pass to the tryst! I hear the low voice of my love; and I rest A maid on his breast. ORPHEUS Thou child of soft wind And the luminous air, Thou, stealing behind As a ghost, as a rare Soft dew, as a blind Fierce lion from his lair, Come forth! I invoke thee, O rain, look forth with thy countenance fair! THE RAIN From highland far drifted, From river-fed lawn, From clouds thunder-rifted, I leap as a fawn. The voice is uplifted, The lord of my dawn; My spirit is shifted, My love is withdrawn. I hear the sweet feet of my God ; I know him ; I fall In tears at his call. 4I