Was this
his coming! I had hoped to see
A scene of wondrous glory, as was told
Of some great God who a rain of gold
Broke open
bars and fell on
Danae:
Or a
dread vision as when
Semele
Sickening for love and unappeased desire
Prayed to see God’s clear body, and the fire
Caught her
white limbs and
slew her
utterly:
With such
glad dreams I sought this holy place,
And now with wondering eyes and heart I stand
Before this supreme mystery of Love:
A
kneeling girl with
passionless pale face,
An angel with a lily in his hand,
And over both with outstretched wings the Dove.
Oscar Wilde, from
Rosa Mystica,
1881