I know thee not, O Spirit fair!
O Life and flying Unity
Of Loveliness! Must man despair
Forever in his chase of thee!
When snowy clouds flash silver-gilt,
Then feel I that thou art on high!
When fire o'er all the west is spilt,
Flames at its heart thy majesty.
Thy beauty basks on distant hills;
It smiles in eve's wine-colored sea;
It shakes its light on leaves and rills;
In calm ideals it mocks at me;
Thy glances strike from many a lake
That lines through woodland scapes a sheen;
Yet to thine eyes I never wake:--
They glance, but they remain unseen.
I know thee not, O Spirit fair!
Thou fillest heaven: the stars are thee:
Whatever fleets with beauty rare
Fleets radiant from thy mystery.
Forever thou art near my grasp;
Thy touches pass in twilight air;
Yet still--thy shapes elude my clasp:--
I know thee not, thou Spirit fair!
O Ether, proud, and vast, and great,
Above the legions of the stars!
To this thou art not adequate;--
Nor rainbow's glorious scimitars.
I know thee not, thou Spirit sweet!
I chained pursue, while thou art free.
Sole by the smile I sometimes meet
I know thou, Vast One, knowest me.
In old religions hadst thou place:
Long, long, O Vision, our pursuit!
Yea, monad, fish and childlike brute
Through countless ages dreamt thy grace.
Grey nations felt thee o'er them tower;
Some clothed thee in fantastic dress;
Some thought thee as the unknown Power,
I, e'er the unknown Loveliness.
To all, thou wert as harps of joy;
To bard and sage their fulgent sun:
To priests their mystic life's employ;
But unto me the Lovely One.
Veils clothed thy might; veils draped thy charm;
The might they tracked, but I the grace;
They learnt all forces were thine Arm,
I that all beauty was thy Face.
Night spares us little. Wanderers we.
Our rapt delights, our wisdoms rare
But shape our darknesses of thee,--
We know thee not, thou Spirit fair!
Would that thine awful Peerlessness
An hour could shine o'er heaven and earth
And I the maddening power possess
To drink the cup,--O Godlike birth!
All life impels me to thy search:
Without thee, yea, to live were null;
Still shall I make the dawn thy Church,
And pray thee "God the Beautiful."