My own Beloved, who hast lifted me From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown, And in betwixt the languid ringlets blown A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully Shines out again, as all the angels see, Before thy saving kiss! My own, my own, Who camest to me when the world was gone, And I who looked for only God, found thee! I find thee: I am safe, and strong, and glad. As one who stands in dewless asphodel Looks backward on the tedious time he had In the upper life—so I, with bosom-swell, Make witness, here, between the good and bad, That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well.