I prayed for other life to come, 
    You prayed for sleep. 
We passed. The sentinels were dumb, 
    The road was steep. 

I have forgotten days and hours;
    I found you, late, 
Asleep where grow tall nameless flowers
    Within the Gate. 

To shimmering heights of amethyst
    A bright path led;
Far off I saw through silver mist 
    The blessed dead. 

Those holy hills where souls rejoice 
    Seemed flint and sand, 
If I must go without your voice, 
    And miss your hand. 

No less for me all Paradise 
    Were dust and thorn,
Should I in your awakening eyes
    See pain reborn. 

I feared to touch your shining hair, 
    To breathe your name;
I waited while the golden air 
    Brightened to flame. 

Across your eyes the glory fell;
    They opened wide, —
How beautiful I may not tell, —
    How satisfied. 

¹⁹⁰¹