When on thy brow I gaze and in thine eyes—
Eyes heavy-laden with the soul's desire,
Not passion-lit, but lit with Heav'n's own fire—
I have a vision of Love's Paradise.
Gazing, my trancÈd spirit straightway flies
Beyond the zone to which the stars aspire;
I hear the blent notes of the white-wing'd quire
Around Immortal Love triumphant rise.

And there I kneel before th' eternal throne
Of Love, whose light conceals him,—there I see,
Veiled in his sacred light, a face well known
To me on earth, now, yearning, bend o'er me.
Heaven's mystic veil, inwove of light and tone,
Conceals thee not, BelovÈd,—I know thee!