ASSUMPTION

A mile of moonlight and the whispering wood:

A mile of shadow and the odorous lane:

One large, white star above the solitude,

Like one sweet wish: and, laughter after pain,

Wild-roses wistful in a web of rain.

No star, no rose, to lesson him and lead;

No woodsman compass of the skies and rocks,—

Tattooed of stars and lichens,— doth love need

To guide him where, among the hollyhocks,

A blur of moonlight, gleam his sweetheart's locks.

We name it beauty — that permitted part,

The love-elected apotheosis

Of Nature, which the god within the heart,

Just touching, makes immortal, but by this —

A star, a rose, the memory of a kiss.