A nimbus doth thy form exhale, Like that which, in the days of old, Each god and goddess did infold; Its light surrounds thee like a veil; It draws me to thee from afar; I am the needle, thou the pole; Thou art my yearning spirit's goal -- Alpha, the bright and guiding star. Thou art my yearning spirit's goal; Thy face for all my ills is balm; Thy voice, thy hand, alone, can calm The perturbations of my soul. I seek the crowded city's press, Still dost thou haunt me, beauteous shape; I slumber, but can ne'er escape The glamour of thy loveliness. My eyes see naught -- below -- above -- But thee; I hear naught but thy voice; Sweet nymph, I love thee not from choice; Because I cannot help, I love. And would I put thee from me even The plaudits of the wise to earn? Ah, does a mortal backward turn When open stand the gates of Heaven? O Love; thou, thou alone art life! Without thy blisses earth would be A charmless desert; but with thee Sweet Paradises here are rife. |