XXXV

So in the faces of all these there grew,
  As by one impulse, a dark, freezing awe,
Which with a fearful fascination drew
  All eyes toward the altar; damp and raw
The air grew suddenly, and no man knew
  Whether perchance his silent neighbor saw
The dreadful thing which all were sure would rise
To scare the strained lids wider from their eyes. 560

XXXVI

The incense trembled as it upward sent
  Its slow, uncertain thread of wandering blue,
As’t were the only living element
  In all the church, so deep the stillness grew;
It seemed one might have heard it, as it went,
  Give out an audible rustle, curling through
The midnight silence of that awestruck air,
More hushed than death, though so much life was there.

XXXVII

Nothing they saw, but a low voice was heard
  Threading the ominous silence of that fear, 570
Gentle and terrorless as if a bird,
  Wakened by some volcano’s glare, should cheer
The murk air with his song; yet every word
  In the cathedral’s farthest arch seemed near,
As if it spoke to every one apart,
Like the clear voice of conscience in each heart.

XXXVIII

’O Rest, to weary hearts thou art most dear! 
  O Silence, after life’s bewildering din,
Thou art most welcome, whether in the sear
  Days of our age thou comest, or we win 580
Thy poppy-wreath in youth! then wherefore here
  Linger I yet, once free to enter in
At that wished gate which gentle Death doth ope,
Into the boundless realm of strength and hope?

XXXIX

’Think not in death my love could ever cease;
  If thou wast false, more need there is for me
Still to be true; that slumber were not peace,
  If’t were unvisited with dreams of thee: 
And thou hadst never heard such words as these,
  Save that in heaven I must forever be 590
Most comfortless and wretched, seeing this
Our unbaptized babe shut out from bliss.

XL

’This little spirit with imploring eyes
  Wanders alone the dreary wild of space;
The shadow of his pain forever lies
  Upon my soul in this new dwelling-place;
His loneliness makes me in Paradise
  More lonely, and, unless I see his face,
Even here for grief could I lie down and die, 599
Save for my curse of immortality.

XLI

’World after world he sees around him swim
  Crowded with happy souls, that take no heed
Of the sad eyes that from the night’s faint rim
  Gaze sick with longing on them as they speed
With golden gates, that only shut on him;
  And shapes sometimes from hell’s abysses freed
Flap darkly by him, with enormous sweep
Of wings that roughen wide the pitchy deep.