Poems (Craik)/Dante to Beatrice
DANTE TO BEATRICE.II.
I see thee, gliding towards me with slow pace Across the azure fields of Paradise, Where thine each footstep makes a star arise. So from this heart's once void but infinite space Each strange sweet touch of thy celestial grace In the old mortal life, struck out some spark To light the world, though all my heaven lay dark. Beatrice, cypresses enlace My laurels: none have grown save tear-bedewed—Salt tears that sank into the earth unviewed, And sprang up green to form a crown of bays. Take it! At thy dear feet I lay my all, What men my honors, virtues, glories, call: I lived, loved, suffered, sung—for thy sole praise.