Ambergris

AMBERGRIS 99 Thereon ; some fragrance rare Stolen from my lady’s hair Perchance redeeming now and then the distant Fugitive tunes. 18. Ah ! Love ! the hour is over ! The moon is up, the vigil overpast. Call me to thee at last, O Rose, O perfect miracle lover, Call me ! I hear thee though it be across The abyss of the whole universe, Though not a sigh escape, delicious loss ! Though hardly a wish rehearse The imperfection underlying ever The perfect happiness. Thou knowest that not in flesh Lies the fair fresh Delight of love ; not in mere lips and eyes The secret of these bridal ecstasies, Since thou art everywhere, Rose of the World, Rose of the Uttermost Abode of Glory, Rose of the High Host Of Heaven, mystic, rapturous Rose ! The extreme passion glows Deep in this breast ; thou knowest (and love knows) How every word awakes its own reward In a thought akin to thee, a shadow of thee ; And every tune evokes its musical Lord ; And every rime tingles and shakes in me The filaments of the great web of love. 19. O Rose all roses far above In the garden of God’s roses, Sorrowless, thornless, passionate Rose, that lies Full in the flood of its own sympathies And makes my life one tune that curls and closes On its won self delight ; A circle, never a line ! Safe from all wind, Secure in its own pleasure-house confined,