O poet, thou art called to tread her ways, br Hers, mistress of the soul, Urania fair. br (Ah God! how fair, how all adorable, br But those who have wooed her can tell!) br All of thy nights and days, br All of thy light and air, br Hers only, so thy soul shall haply win br Grace in those eyes br That goddess-wise br Smile in that heaven man's highest have enter'd in. br Thou'rt called to Love's high hest, soul-wooer thou br Of the divinest beauty man may know — br Soul-wooer and soul-winner, so thy feet br Fail not nor falter, so earth's cheat br Clip not thy burning brow br With its chill wreath, and so br Darken the heavenly light within the brain; br But let thy forehead be br Starred with pure poesy, br So thou to her high mystery attain. br Thy love a Goddess and her heaven thy home! br By the ethereal beauty in those eyes, br O poet! bless the loss of all things here br So but thy soul in that fine sphere, br Beloved of her, may roam br No more with wandering cries — br At last may bow before her face, and be, br Though woman-born, divine, br When all of hers is thine, br And thou a star of God's ascendency.