The blessed damozel lean'd out
From the gold bar of Heaven;
Her eyes were deeper than the depth
Of waters still'd 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.
Herseem'd 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 lean'd 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-remember'd names;
And the souls mounting up to God
Went by her like thin flames.
And still she bow'd herself and stoop'd
Out of the circling charm;
Until her bosom must have made
The bar she lean'd on warm,
And the lilies lay as if asleep
Along her bended arm.
From the fix'd 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 curl'd 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 the stars
Had when they sang together.
(Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird's song,
Strove not her accents there,
Fain to be hearken'd? When those bells
Possess'd 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 pray'd 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 cloth'd 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 lie i' the shadow of
Occult, withheld, untrod,
Whose lamps are stirr'd 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, hush'd 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 abash'd 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 unnumber'd heads
Bow'd 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, forever now
Together, I and he."
She gazed and listen'd and then said,
Less sad of speech than mild,—
"All this is when he comes." She ceas'd.
The light thrill'd towards her, fill'd
With angels in strong level flight.
Her eyes pray'd, 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.)
"The Blessed Damozel" describes beauty of damsel who is in heaven.
She is up in heaven, leaning over a golden balcony to look back down at Earth. Her eyes are deeper than water. She is holding three lilies and seven stars in hair She is wearing a plain white robe; has golden, flowing hair which are yellow like ripe corn.
poet laments for being separated from this young woman for ten years now. He's back on Earth, imagining being in her presence, but they're still separated by life and death, Earth and heaven.
It's quite a separation, too. Heaven is so high up that it's hard to even see the sun from where the damozel is standing, and the Earth looks like a tiny bug.
Meanwhile, the damsel is surrounded by the souls of reunited lovers happy to be together for eternity. No such luck for her, though. She can only lean on the balcony railing and feel bummed.
Back on Earth, her beloved thinks that he hears her voice in bird songs and feels her presence in bell chimes. Of course, this is just a fantasy.
The damsel, for her part, is also into fantasies. She wishes for her beloved to come to her, but then she convinces herself that he will come—dressed in a white robe and with his very own halo. They'll have a place alone to enjoy away from everyone, and then they'll go hang out together underneath the Tree of Life. It sounds like a pretty swell picnic.
The damsel goes on to fantasize that she'll teach her beloved how to sing like her, and that each time he pauses he'll be filled with new knowledge. Her beloved, though, is not so convinced. Back on Earth, he's worried that he'll never get into heaven. He thinks that loving the damozel is the only thing he's done to qualify for entrance.
The young woman has no such doubts. She continues to fantasize that, once they're together in heaven, she'll take her beloved to visit Mary, the mother of Jesus. She'll tell Mary and Mary's handmaidens all about her love for this dude—and she'll tell them all with pride.
Mary—according to the woman's ongoing fantasy—will approve of her message, taking her and her man by the hands and leading them to meet with Jesus. The damozel will then ask Jesus directly to allow her and her beloved to live forever in heaven "With Love"—just as they did back on Earth.
What will Jesus say? We're not told, as the damsel breaks off her fantasy with a pledge to do exactly that—once her beloved does meet her in heaven. In the meantime, though, she can only put her head down on the balcony railing and cry.
'The Old Woman' is simple and short poem by Joseph Campbell where he compares old woman with different things and describes her. The poem has three stanzas. .In the first stanza , the poet compares the old lady with the white candle. White colour is symbol of peace and candle is symbol of light. The old woman is like white candle. She is in peace and she gives other people light by his experiences. She is able to show right path who need that. In the second stanza, the poet compares the old lady with the spent radiance of the winter's sun. It refers old woman's long life. But now she is old like winter's sun, but she has gathered a wide experience of life. Poet writes, "A woman with her travail done" In last stanza, the poet compares the old woman with the water under the ruined mill. The water is still under the ruined mill and by comparing this poet writes about the old lady that her all sons has gone, they do not live with her. But she has all the
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