Poem by Robert Seymour Bridges

Shorter Poems. Book IV. 28. “My Spirit Kisseth Thine”

My spirit kisseth thine,
My spirit embraceth thee:
I feel thy being twine
Her graces over me,

  In the life-kindling fold
Of God’s breath; where on high,
In furthest space untold
Like a lost world I lie:

  And o’er my dreaming plains
Lightens, most pale and fair,
A moon that never wanes;
Or more, if I compare,

  Like what the shepherd sees
On late mid-winter dawns,
When thro’ the branchèd trees,
O’er the white-frosted lawns,

  The huge unclouded sun,
Surprising the world whist,
Is all uprisen thereon,
Golden with melting mist.

1. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 13. The Windmill
2. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 7. “Gáy Róbin Is Seen No More”
3. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 23. “The storm is over, the land hushes to rest”
4. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 4. “The Clouds Have Left the Sky”
5. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 10. “O Love, my muse, how was’t for me”

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