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Poem	It is a year dear one, since you afar Went out beyond my yearning mortal sight A wondrous year! perchance in many a star You have sojourned, or basked within the light Of mightier suns; it may be you have trod The glittering pathways of the Pleiades, And through the Milky Way's white mysteries Have walked at will, fire-shod. You may have gazed in the immortal eyes Of prophets and of martyrs; talked with seers Learned in all the lore of Paradise, The infinite wisdom of eternal years; To you the Sons of Morning may have sung, The impassioned strophes of their matin hymn, For you the choirs of the seraphim Their harpings wild out-flung. But still I think at eve you come to me For old, delightsome speech of eye and lip, Deeming our mutual converse thus to be Fairer than archangelic comradeship; Dearer our close communings fondly given Than all the rainbow dreams a spirit knows, Sweeter my gathered violets than the rose Upon the hills of heaven. Can any exquisite, unearthly morn, Silverly breaking o'er a starry plain, Give to your soul the poignant pleasure born Of virgin moon and sunset's lustrous stain When we together watch them ? Oh, apart A hundred universes you may roam, But still I knowI knowyour only home Is here within my heart!
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