By George Sterling

How hath my heart become a sweet amaze!
    A thousand thoughts, each sweeter than the last,
    Regrets a thousand for the barren Past,
And hopes ten thousand for the future days—
Such hath my life become. On thee I gaze
    As holds a worshipper his eyes upcast
    To some fair saint; but lovelier, thou hast
No need of Heaven to shrine thee with its rays.

There lies a radiance upon thy brow,
Purer than aught in Paradise. Aye! thou
    Dost bring God near to me, and stun my soul
        With visions of His farther love and place, —
With tyrant dreams that startle and control
    In surmise of thy beatific grace.

Written in Sag Harbor.

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