Resurrection

Is it your face I see, your voice I hear? Your face, your voice, again after these years! O is your cheek once more against my cheek? And is this blessed rain, angel, your tears? You have come back,-how strange-out of the grave; Its dreams are in your eyes, and still there clings Dust of the grave on your vainglorious hair; And a mysterious rust is on these rings- The ring we gave each other, that young night When the moon rose on our betrothal kiss; When the sun rose upon our wedding day, How wonderful it was to give you this! I dreamed you were a bird or a wild flower, Some changed lovely thing that was not you; Maybe, I said, she is the morning star, A radiance unfathomably far- And now again you are so strangely near! Your face, your voice, again after these years! Is it your face I see, your voice I hear, And is this blessed rain, angel, your tears?