But these, though fed with careful dirt, That blows upon its mountain, And I must work through months of toil, And years of cultivation, A little garden blossom. ST. AGNES. I. DEEP on the convent-roof the snows My breath to heaven like vapor goes: The shadows of the convent-towers Still creeping with the creeping hours Make Thou my spirit pure and clear As are the frosty skies, Or this first snowdrop of the year That in my bosom lies. II. As these white robes are soiled and dark, To yonder shining ground; As this pale taper's earthly spark, To yonder argent round; So shows my soul before the Lamb, My spirit before Thee; So in mine earthly house I am, To that I hope to be. Break up the heavens, oh Lord! and far, Through all yon starlight keen, Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star, In raiment white and clean. III. He lifts me to the golden doors; Roll back, and far within For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, To make me pure of sin. One sabbath deep and wide- SIR GALAHAD. I. My good blade carves the casques of men, The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, They reel, they roll in clanging lists, And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies' hands. II. How sweet are looks that ladies bend On whom their favors fall! For them I battle till the end, To save from shame and thrall: But all my heart is drawn above, My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine : I never felt the kiss of love, Nor maiden's hand in mine. More bounteous aspects on me beam, Me mightier transports move and thrill; So keep I fair through faith and prayer A virgin heart in work and will. III. When down the stormy crescent goes, Then by some secret shrine I ride; Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth, The silver vessels sparkle clean, And solemn chaunts resound between. |