Thou walkest with me as the spirit-light <br />Of the hushed moon, high o'er a snowy hill, <br />Walks with the houseless traveller all the night, <br />When trees are tongueless and when mute the rill. <br />Moon of my soul, O phantasm of delight, <br />Thou walkest with me still. <br /> <br />The vestal flame of quenchless memory burns <br />In my soul's sanctuary. Yea, still for thee <br />My bitter heart hath yearned, as moonward yearns <br />Each separate wave-pulse of the clamorous sea: <br />My Moon of love, to whom for ever turns <br />The life that aches through me.<br /><br />Mathilde Blind<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thou-walkest-with-me/