With all the fairest angels nearest God,
   The ineffable true of heart around the throne,
   There shall I find you waiting when the flown
Dream leaves my heart insentient as the clod;
And when the grief-retracing ways I trod
   Become a shining path to thee alone,
   My weary feet, that seemed to drag as stone,
Shall once again, with wings of fleetness shod,
Fare on, beloved, to find you! Just beyond
   The seraph throng await me, standing near
   The gentler angels, eager and apart;
Be there, near God's own fairest, with the fond
   Sweet smile that was your own, and let me hear
   Your voice again and clasp you to my heart.