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Dinah Maria Mulock - A Sketch
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"Emelie, that fayrer was to seene
Than is the lilye on hys stalke grene.....
Uprose the sun and uprose Emelie."

DOST thou thus love me, O thou beautiful? 
So beautiful, that by thy side I seem 
Like a great ducky cloud beside a star: 
Yet thou creep`st o`er its edges, and it rests 
On its lone path, the slow deep-hearted cloud-- 
Then opes a rift and lets thee enter in; 
And with thy beauty shining on its breast, 
Feels no more its own blackness--thou art fair. 

Dost thou thus love me, O thou all beloved, 
In whose large store the very meanest coin 
Would out-buy my whole wealth? Yet here thou comest 
Like a kind heiress from her purple and down 
Uprising, who for pity cannot sleep, 
But goes forth to the stranger at her gate-- 
The beggared stranger at her beauteous gate-- 
And clothes and feeds; scarce blest till she has blest. 

Dost thou thus love me, O thou pure of heart, 
Whose very looks are prayers? What couldst thou see 
In this forsaken pool by the yew-wood`s side, 
To sit down at its bank, and dip thy hand, 
Saying, "it is so clear!"--And lo, erelong 
Its blackness caught the shimmer of they wings, 
Its slimes slid downward from thy stainless palm, 
Its depths grew still that there thy form might rise. 

O beautiful! O well-beloved! O rich 
In all that makes my need! I lay me down 
I` the shadow of thy love, and feel no pain. 
The cloud floats on, thee glittering on its breast, 
The beggar wears thy purple as his own: 
The noisome waves, made calm, creep to thy feet 
Rejoicing that they yet can image thee, 
And beyond thee, God`s heaven, thick-sown with stars.
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