XV - Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear / Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
I see thine image through my tears to-night,
And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How
Refer the cause?--Beloved, is it thou
Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte
Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite
May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow,
On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow,
Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight,
As he, in his swooning ears, the choir's amen.
Beloved, dost thou love? or did I see all
The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when
Too vehement light dilated my ideal,
For my soul's eyes? Will that light come again,
As now these tears come--falling hot and real?
Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear / Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
The face of all the world is changed, I think, / Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul
'O DREARY life,' we cry, ' O dreary life ! ' / And still the generations of the birds
A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne / From year to year until I saw thy face,