Look, look, look!
My soul,
At that high favored Sun;
With smiling face,
And matchless grace,
The King hath Beauty won.
Look, look, look!
My longing soul,
My hungry, ravished heart—
Most gorgeous role
In Nature’s whole,
Surpassing man’s high art!
Look, look, look!
Every open eye and mind,
Every yearning soul of mortal—
The Master’s acme for mankind;
Ye stars, look down and glory find.
Look!
Beauty glides toward the portal.
With parting day,
I watch the twain as they go;
I watched and sighed,
As heaven and sorrowing earth below,
And hosts of both were heard to say,
“O why may Beauty not abide?
The King and Queen made one at eventide,
And then in secret chambers hide!”
“Stay, stay, stay!”
My soul out-cries,
“For Beauty fleeth fast,
Nor nuptials last,
And darkening skies”—
And lo, the royal pair had passed;
But left their image in my eyes,
And in my living soul.