My love for thee doth take me unaware, When most with lesser things my brain is wrought, As in some nimble interchange of thought The silence enters, and the talkers stare. Suddenly I am still and thou art there, A viewless visitant and unbesought, And all my thinking trembles into nought And all my being opens like a prayer. Thou art the lifted Chalice in my soul, And I a dim church at the thought of thee; Brief be the moment, but the mass is said, The benediction like an aureole Is on my spirit, and shuddering through me A rapture like the rapture of the dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOUL AND BODY by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS OF AESCHYLUS by AESCHYLUS SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 1. THE HAPPENING by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS ON THE DEATH OF MR. JAMES VALENTINE by JAMES HAY BEATTIE MIRACLES by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH by ROBERT BROWNING TWO GARDENIAS by BEULAH JACKSON CHARMLEY TO GEORGE BORROW (LAVENGRO) by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE ON SEEING A YOUTH AFFECTIONATELY WELCOMED BY A SISTER by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |