Were thou and I the white pinions
On some eager, heaven-born dove,
Swift would we mount to the old dominions,
To our rest of old, my love!
Were thou and I trembling strands
In music's enchanted line,
We would wait and wait for magic hands
To untwist the magic twine.
Were we two sky-tints, thou and I,
Thou the golden, I the red;
We would quiver and glow and darken and die,
And love until we were dead!
Nearer than wings of one dove,
Than tones or colours in chord,
We are one-and safe, and for ever, my love,
Two thoughts in the heart of one Lord.
