# The Blessed Damozel (Dante Gabriel Rossetti)

See also w:The Blessed Damozel.
* The Blessed Damozel
* The blessed damozel leaned out
* From the gold bar of Heaven;
* Her eyes were deeper than the depth
* Of waters stilled at even;
* She had three lilies in her hand,
* And the stars in her hair were seven.
* Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,
* No wrought flowers did adorn,
* But a white rose of Mary's gift,
* For service meetly worn;
* Her hair that lay along her back
* Was yellow like ripe corn.
* Herseemed she scarce had been a day
* One of God's choristers;
* The wonder was not yet quite gone
* From that still look of hers;
* Albeit, to them she left, her day
* Had counted as ten years.
* (To one, it is ten years of years.
* . . . Yet now, and in this place,
* Surely she leaned o'er me — her hair
* Fell all about my face. . . .
* Nothing: the autumn-fall of leaves.
* The whole year sets apace.)
* It was the rampart of God's house
* That she was standing on;
* By God built over the sheer depth
* The which is Space begun;
* So high, that looking downward thence
* She scarce could see the sun.
* It lies in Heaven, across the flood
* Of ether, as a bridge.
* Beneath, the tides of day and night
* With flame and darkness ridge
* The void, as low as where this earth
* Spins like a fretful midge.
* Around her, lovers, newly met
* 'Mid deathless love's acclaims,
* Spoke evermore among themselves
* Their heart-remembered names;
* And the souls mounting up to God
* Went by her like thin flames.
* And still she bowed herself and stooped
* Out of the circling charm;
* Until her bosom must have made
* The bar she leaned on warm,
* And the lilies lay as if asleep
* Along her bended arm.
* From the fixed place of Heaven she saw
* Time like a pulse shake fierce
* Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove
* Within the gulf to pierce
* Its path; and now she spoke as when
* The stars sang in their spheres.
* The sun was gone now; the curled moon
* Was like a little feather
* Fluttering far down the gulf; and now
* She spoke through the still weather.
* Her voice was like the voice of the stars
* Had when they sang together.
* (Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird's song,
* Strove not her accents there,
* Fain to be hearkened? When those bells
* Possessed the mid-day air,
* Strove not her steps to reach my side
* Down all the echoing stair?)
* 'I wish that he were come to me,
* For he will come,' she said.
* 'Have I not preyed in Heaven? -- on earth,
* Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd?
* Are not two prayers a perfect strength?
* And shall I feel afraid?
* 'When round his head the aureole clings,
* And he is clothed in white,
* I'll take his hand and go with him
* To the deep wells of light;
* As unto a stream we will step down,
* And bathe there in God's sight.
* 'We two will stand beside that shrine,
* Occult, withheld, untrod,
* Whose lamps are stirred continually
* With prayer sent up to God;
* And see our old prayers, granted, melt
* Each like a little cloud.
* 'We two will lie i' the shadow of
* That living mystic tree
* Within whose secret growth the Dove
* Is sometimes felt to be,
* While every leaf that His plumes touch
* Saith His Name audibly.
* 'And I myself will teach to him,
* I myself, lying so,
* The songs I sing here; which his voice
* Shall pause in, hushed and slow,
* And find some knowledge at each pause,
* Or some new thing to know.'
* (Alas! We two, we two, thou say'st!
* Yea, one wast thou with me
* That once of old. But shall God lift
* To endless unity
* The soul whose likeness with thy soul
* Was but its love for thee?)
* 'We two,' she said, 'will seek the groves
* Where the lady Mary is,
* With her five handmaidens, whose names
* Are five sweet symphonies,
* Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
* Margaret and Rosalys.
* 'Circlewise sit they, with bound locks
* And foreheads garlanded;
* Into the fine cloth white like flame
* Weaving the golden thread,
* To fashion the birth-robes for them
* Who are just born, being dead.
* 'He shall fear, haply, and be dumb:
* Then will I lay my cheek
* To his, and tell about our love,
* Not once abashed or weak:
* And the dear Mother will approve
* My pride, and let me speak.
* 'Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,
* To him round whom all souls
* Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads
* Bowed with their aureoles:
* And angels meeting us shall sing
* To their citherns and citoles.
* 'There will I ask of Christ the Lord
* Thus much for him and me: —
* Only to live as once on earth
* With Love, — only to be,
* As then awhile, for ever now
* Together, I and he.'
* She gazed and listened and then said,
* Less sad of speech than mild, —
* 'All this is when he comes.' She ceased.
* The light thrilled towards her, fill'd
* With angels in strong level flight.
* Her eyes prayed, and she smil'd.
* (I saw her smile.) But soon their path
* Was vague in distant spheres:
* And then she cast her arms along
* The golden barriers,
* And laid her face between her hands,
* And wept. (I heard her tears.)
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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