Like labour-laden moonclouds faint to flee
         From winds that sweep the winter-bitten wold,--
         Like multiform circumfluence manifold
     Of night's flood-tide,--like terrors that agree
     Of hoarse-tongued fire and inarticulate sea,--
         Even such, within some glass dimm'd by our breath,
         Our hearts discern wild images of Death,
     Shadows and shoals that edge eternity.

     Howbeit athwart Death's imminent shade doth soar
       One Power, than flow of stream or flight of dove
       Sweeter to glide around, to brood above.
   Tell me, my heart,--what angel-greeted door
   Or threshold of wing-winnow'd threshing-floor
       Hath guest fire-fledg'd as thine, whose lord is Love?