I

   All I believed is true!

           I am able yet

           All I want, to get

   By a method as strange as new:

   Dare I trust the same to you?

   II

   If at night, when doors are shut,

           And the wood-worm picks,

           And the death-watch ticks,

   And the bar has a flag of smut,

   And a cat's in the water-butt—                                10

   III

   And the socket floats and flares,

           And the house-beams groan,

           And a foot unknown

   Is surmised on the garret-stairs,

   And the locks slip unawares—

   IV

   And the spider, to serve his ends,

           By a sudden thread,

           Arms and legs outspread,

   On the table's midst descends,

   Comes to find, God knows what friends!—                       20

   V

   If since eve drew in, I say,

           I have sat and brought

           (So to speak) my thought

   To bear on the woman away,

   Till I felt my hair turn grey—

   VI

   Till I seemed to have and hold,

           In the vacancy

           'Twixt the wall and me,

   From the hair-plait's chestnut gold

   To the foot in its muslin fold—                               30

   VII

   Have and hold, then and there,

           Her, from head to foot

           Breathing and mute,

   Passive and yet aware,

   In the grasp of my steady stare—

   VIII

   Hold and have, there and then,

           All her body and soul

           That completes my whole,

   All that women add to men,

   In the clutch of my steady ken—                               40

   IX

   Having and holding, till

           I imprint her fast

           On the void at last

   As the sun does whom he will

   By the calotypist's skill—

   X

   Then,—if my heart's strength serve,

           And through all and each

           Of the veils I reach

   To her soul and never swerve,

   Knitting an iron nerve—                                       50

   XI

   Command her soul to advance

           And inform the shape

           Which has made escape

   And before my countenance

   Answers me glance for glance—

   XII

   I, still with a gesture fit

           Of my hands that best

           Do my soul's behest,

   Pointing the power from it,

   While myself do steadfast sit—                                60

   XIII

   Steadfast and still the same

           On my object bent,

           While the hands give vent

   To my ardour and my aim

   And break into very flame—

   XIV

   Then I reach, I must believe,

           Not her soul in vain,

           For to me again

   It reaches, and past retrieve

   Is wound in the toils I weave;                                 70

   XV

   And must follow as I require,

           As befits a thrall,

           Bringing flesh and all,

   Essence and earth-attire

   To the source of the tractile fire:

   XVI

   Till the house called hers, not mine,

           With a growing weight

           Seems to suffocate

   If she break not its leaden line

   And escape from its close confine.                             80

   XVII

   Out of doors into the night!

           On to the maze

           Of the wild wood-ways,

   Not turning to left nor right

   From the pathway, blind with sight—

   XVIII

   Making thro' rain and wind

           O'er the broken shrubs,

           'Twixt the stems and stubs,

   With a still, composed, strong mind,

   Nor a care for the world behind—                              90

   XIX

   Swifter and still more swift,

           As the crowding peace

           Doth to joy increase

   In the wide blind eyes uplift

   Thro' the darkness and the drift!

   XX

   While I—to the shape, I too

           Feel my soul dilate

           Nor a whit abate,

   And relax not a gesture due,

   As I see my belief come true.                                 100

   XXI

   For, there! have I drawn or no

           Life to that lip?

           Do my fingers dip

   In a flame which again they throw

   On the cheek that breaks a-glow?

   XXII

   Ha! was the hair so first?

           What, unfilleted,

           Made alive, and spread

   Through the void with a rich outburst,

   Chestnut gold-interspersed?                                   110

   XXIII

   Like the doors of a casket-shrine,

           See, on either side,

           Her two arms divide

   Till the heart betwixt makes sign,

   Take me, for I am thine!

   XXIV

   "Now—now"—the door is heard!

           Hark, the stairs! and near—

           Nearer—and here—

   "Now!" and at call the third

   She enters without a word.                                    120

   XXV

   On doth she march and on

           To the fancied shape;

           It is, past escape,

   Herself, now: the dream is done

   And the shadow and she are one.

   XXVI

   First I will pray. Do Thou

           That ownest the soul,

           Yet wilt grant control

   To another, nor disallow

   For a time, restrain me now!                                  130

   XXVII

   I admonish me while I may,

           Not to squander guilt,

           Since require Thou wilt

   At my hand its price one day!

   What the price is, who can say?

   NOTES:

   "Mesmerism."  With a continuous tension of will, whose

   unbroken concentration impregnates the very structure of

   the poem, a mesmerist describes the processes of the act

   by which he summons shape and soul of the woman he

   desires; and then reverent perception of the sacredness

   of the soul awes him from trespassing upon another's

   individuality.