XLVII.
             
        That each, who seems a separate whole,
            Should move his rounds, and fusing all
            The skirts of self again, should fall
        Remerging in the general Soul,

        Is faith as vague as all unsweet:
            Eternal form shall still divide
            The eternal soul from all beside;
        And I shall know him when we meet:

        And we shall sit at endless feast,
            Enjoying each the other’s good:
            What vaster dream can hit the mood
        Of Love on earth? He seeks at least

        Upon the last and sharpest height,
            Before the spirits fade away,
            Some landing-place, to clasp and say,
        ‘Farewell! We lose ourselves in light.’