Recognition

I.

Who was the first to bid thee glad all-hail,
O friend and master? Who with wingèd feet
Over the heavenly hills flew, fast and fleet,
To bring thee welcome from beyond the veil?
The mighty bards of old?—Thy Dante, pale
With high thoughts even yet, Virgil the sweet,
Old Homer, trumpet-tongued, and Chaucer, meet
To clasp thy stainless hand? What nightingale
Of all that sing in heaven sang first to thee?
Through all the hallelujahs didst thou hear
Spencer still pouring his melodious lays,
Majestic Milton’s clarion, strong and free,
Or, golden link between the far and near,
Bryant’s clear chanting of the eternal days?

II.

Nay, but not these! not these! Even though apace,
Long rank on rank, with swift yet stately tread
They came to meet thee—the immortal dead—
Yet Love ran faster! All the lofty place,
All the wide, luminous, enchanted space
Glistened with Shining Ones who thither sped—
The countless host thy song had comforted!
What light, what love illumed each radiant face!
The Rachels thou hadst sung to in the dark,
The Davids who for Absaloms had wept,
The fainting ones who drank thy balm and wine,
High souls that soared with thee as soars the lark,
Children who named thee, smiling, ere they slept—
These gave thee first the heavenly countersign!