What is that joy that thou possess
That if thou be hang’d upon the stars
The cold and strange realm that disguis’s
With such gauzy mask and such wars
Of feeling, still that smile sat
Upon thy lips. Like the paint’d pearl,
The haughty being, mellowly set
On the tip of history. Like the earl
Who fell to the depth of music. Be
It the dagger of woe or doubt
Thy joy surpasses them, and merry
Is thy heart, as all but a mere bout

But how could thou joyously sat
Upon the site so far above
The mortal land of chaos, where bat
And owl in seeling nights do rove
And morn ’til dusk wailing birds
Soar across the steel dyed sky;
(From mountain to root haply they gird)
Where lamenting roses rest in grave
With faded blood their thorns the dye
Where sorrow alone dwell with crave
To be mark’d, to be own’d, cradled and wreathed
And utter astounding words yet breathed

Glimps’d thou not the pain thence suffer’d?
Heard thou not the pray’r thence mutter’d
Softly, which on their way to Holiness
Perchance wind past thy jolliness
Whence darkness continued to righteously seize
The world, after dawn, in smoke and haze
Thy joy hast pairs of poisonous hands
That fasten’d not thy gaze upon such lands
And thy smile a sneer that misshapenly pursed
On thy silent mouth, and tongue that cursed
To be sweet and pleasant, luscious and kind
And songs do echo and drip for the bind

Defend thy self, those unjust words!
Why stay unchanged, unraged and calm?
Pensively thou sat, soft ‘gainst the swords
Of prejudice. Thy eyes as clear as no harm
Was spoken; thy smile, the self same sweetness
As if no lies, with piercing coldness’ done
Oh pray, what joy thou bear that has
This power of praising, bright as the Sun?
For amongst the stars upon the heaven
Thy tranquility alone rules the sane
That raises in forests and in the Ocean
And cures the thought of sin and bane

There are enough sorrow to be sought,
And ample evil, harsh and sound
Yet it seem’d, should one be with the thought
Where tend’r and love once more be found
Should one whose smile to soften the frost
And bear thank and blithe, shine and warmth
The hapless falsehood thence a ghost
Of noise too thin but a dew’s depth
That haunts and drifts, sorrily glides
Its vague form, seldom would one dose
Joy be it then, thy heart be glad
Let it gleam on every Moon that ever raise