Old Wonder Flush’D The East Anew

Old wonder flush’d the east anew
and shed the golden air, and wing
of song that summon’d, from the dew
and rapture of the fields of spring,
old wonder blossom’d in my heart:
because the threatening dream of old,
that nightly wont to bid us part,
now changing, gave me to behold
thy rosy maidenhood that pass’d
and greeted me with stranger grace,
who knew that meeting for our last
and far from mine thy biding-place.
And I have thank’d the threat of sleep,
because the secret heart that flow’d
with phantom wound was proven to keep
beneath its living springs bestow’d
the pang that seven years since was felt
keen thro’ my life yet soft dispersed
along all veins that thrill or melt —
old wonder, blossom’d, not inhears’d:
and eyes perchance made dull and slow
by the long days’ subtle dusty mesh
waked gladly from their fear, to know
old wonder, old and ever fresh.