’What if with subtle change God touch their eyes
  When he awakes them,—­not far off, but here
In a new earth, this:  not in any wise
  Strange, but more homely sweet, more heavenly dear,
Or if He roll away, as clouds disperse
Somewhat, and lo, that other universe.

O how ’t were sweet new waked in some good hour,
  Long time to sit on a hillside green and high
There like a honeybee domed in a flower
  To feed unneath the azure bell o’ the sky,
Feed in the midmost home and fount of light
Sown thick with stars at noonday as by night

To watch the flying faultless ones wheel down,
  Alight, and run along some ridged peak,
Their feet adust from orbs of old renown,
  Procyon or Mazzaroth, haply;—­when they speak
Other-world errands wondrous, all discern
That would be strange, there would be much to learn.

Ay, and it would be sweet to share unblamed
  Love’s shining truths that tell themselves in tears,
Or to confess and be no more ashamed
  The wrongs that none can right through earthly years;
And seldom laugh, because the tenderness
Calm, perfect, would be more than joy—­would bless.

I tell you it were sweet to have enough,
  And be enough.  Among the souls forgiven
In presence of all worlds, without rebuff
  To move, and feel the excellent safety leaven
With peace that awe must loss and the grave survive—­
But palpitating moons that are alive

Nor shining fogs swept up together afar,
   Vast as a thought of God, in the firmament;
No, and to dart as light from star to star
  Would not long time man’s yearning soul content: 
Albeit were no more ships and no more sea,
He would desire his new earth presently.

Leisure to learn it.  Peoples would be here;
  They would come on in troops, and take at will
The forms, the faces they did use to wear
  With life’s first splendours—­raiment rich with skill
Of broidery, carved adornments, crowns of gold;
Still would be sweet to them the life of old.

Then might be gatherings under golden shade,
  Where dust of water drifts from some sheer fall,
Cooling day’s ardour.  There be utterance made
  Of comforted love, dear freedom after thrall,
Large longings of the Seer, through earthly years
An everlasting burden, but no tears.

Egypt’s adopted child might tell of lore
  They taught him underground in shrines all dim,
And of the live tame reptile gods that wore
  Gold anklets on their feet.  And after him,
With fairest eyes ere met of mortal ken,
Glorious, forgiven, might speak the mother of men.

Talk of her apples gather’d by the marge
  Of lapsing Gihon.  ’Thus one spoke, I stood,
I ate.’  Or next the mariner-saint enlarge
  Right quaintly on his ark of gopher wood
To wandering men through high grass meads that ran
Or sailed the sea Mediterranean.