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A VISION OF POETS.
"'In my large joy of sight and touch
Beyond what others count for such,
I am content to suffer much.
Beyond what others count for such,
I am content to suffer much.
"'I know—is all the mourner saith,—
Knowledge by suffering entereth;
And Life is perfected by Death!'"
Knowledge by suffering entereth;
And Life is perfected by Death!'"
The child spake nobly. Strange to hear,
His infantine soft accents clear,
Charged with high meanings, did appear,—
His infantine soft accents clear,
Charged with high meanings, did appear,—
And fair to see, his form and face,—
Winged out with whiteness and pure grace
From the green darkness of the place.
Winged out with whiteness and pure grace
From the green darkness of the place.
Behind his head a palm-tree grew:
An orient beam, which pierced it through,
Transversely on his forehead drew
An orient beam, which pierced it through,
Transversely on his forehead drew
The figure of a palm-branch brown,
Traced on its brightness, up and down
In fine fair lines,—a shadow-crown.
Traced on its brightness, up and down
In fine fair lines,—a shadow-crown.
Guido might paint his angels so—
A little angel, taught to go,
With holy words to saints below.
A little angel, taught to go,
With holy words to saints below.
Such innocence of action yet
Significance of object met
In his whole bearing strong and sweet.
Significance of object met
In his whole bearing strong and sweet.
And all the children, the whole band,
Did round in rosy reverence stand,
Each with a palm-bough in his hand.
Did round in rosy reverence stand,
Each with a palm-bough in his hand.
"And so he died," I whispered;—"Nay,
Not so," the childish voice did say—
"That poet turned him, first, to pray
Not so," the childish voice did say—
"That poet turned him, first, to pray
"In silence; and God heard the rest,
Twixt the sun's footsteps down the west.
Then he called one who loved him best,
Twixt the sun's footsteps down the west.
Then he called one who loved him best,
