Night Study

I am alone; and yet
In the still solitude there is a rush
Around me, as were met
A crowd of viewless wings; I hear a gush
Of utter'd harmonies — heaven meeting earth,
Making it to rejoice with holy mirth.
Ye winged Mysteries,
Sweeping before my spirit's conscious eye,
Beckoning me to arise,
And go forth from my very self, and fly
With you far in the unknown, unseen immense
Of worlds beyond our sphere — What are ye!
Whence?
Ye eloquent voices,
Now soft as breathings of a distant flute,
Now strong as when rejoices,
The trumpet in the victory and pursuit;
Strange are ye, yet familiar, as ye call
My soul to wake from earth's sense and its thrall
I know you now — I see
With more than natural light — ye are the good
The wise depa?-ted — ye
Are come from heaven to claim your brotherhood
With mortal brother, struggling in the strife
And chains, which once were yours in this sad life.
Ye hover o'er the page
Ye traced in ancient days with glorious thought
For many a distant age;
Ye love to watch the inspiration caught,
From your sublime examples, and so cheer
The fainting student to your high career.
Ye come to nerve the soul
Like him who near the Atone a stood, when He,
Trembling, saw round him roll
The wrathful potents of Gethsemane,
With courage strong: the promise ye have known
And proved, rapt for me from the Eternal throne.
Still keep! O, keep me near you,
Compass me round with your immortal wings:
Still let my glad soul hear you
Striking your triumphs from your golden strings,
Until with you I mount, and join the song,
An angel, like you, 'mid the white-robed throng.