The law of his own harmony?

Mother! albeit this be so, Let me to my Heaven go! A little harp me waits therebyA harp whose strings are golden all, And tuned to music spherical, Hanging on the green life-tree Where no willows ever be. Shall I miss that harp of mine? Mother, no!-the Eye divine Turned upon it, makes it shineAnd when I touch it, poems sweet Like separate souls shall fly from it, Each to an immortal fytte. We shall all be poets there, Gazing on the chiefest Fair!

XXXII.

And love! earth's love! and can we love

Fixedly where all things move?
Can the shining love each other?
Mother, mother,

I tremble in thy close embrace-
I feel thy tears adown my face-
Thy prayers do keep me out of bliss-
O dreary earthly love!
Loose thy prayer and let me go
To the place which loving is
Yet not sad! and when is given
Escape to thee from this below,
Thou shalt behold me that I wait
For thee beside the happy gate;
And silence shall be up in heaven
To hear our greeting kiss.'

XXXIII.

The nurse awakes in the morning sun,
And starts to see beside her bed
The lady with a grandeur spread
Like pathos o'er her face; as one
God-satisfied and earth-undone :

The babe upon her arm was dead! And the nurse could utter forth no cry,She was awed by the calm in the mother's eye.

XXXIV.

'Wake nurse!' the lady said:
We are waking-he and I-
I, on earth, and he, in sky!
And thou must help me to o'erlay