THIS mood hath known all beauty, for it sees <br />O'erwhelmed majesties <br />In these pale forms, and kingly crowns of gold <br />On brows no longer bold, <br />And through the shadowy terrors of their hell <br />The love for which they fell, <br />And how desire which cast them in the deep <br />Called God too from His sleep. <br />Oh, Pity, only seer, who looking through <br />A heart melted like dew, <br />Seest the long perished in the present thus, <br />For ever dwell in us. <br />Whatever time thy golden eyelids ope <br />They travel to a hope; <br />Not only backward from these low degrees <br />To starry dynasties, <br />But, looking far where now the silence owns <br />And rules from empty thrones, <br />Thou seest the enchanted hills of heaven burn <br />For joy at our return. <br />Thy tender kiss hath memory we are kings <br />For all our wanderings. <br />Thy shining eyes already see the after <br />In hidden light and laughter.<br /><br />George William Russell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-divine-vision/
